Fixed Action Pattern
by the morrighan
Summary: An intruder shines a dark light on the Ancients.
1. Chapter 1

Fixed Action Pattern

Black.

The monitor was dark. The screen completely blank. Power hummed through the machine but the data was obscured. Hidden by the daunting dark screen. Appearing innocuous as it sat amid other computers on a console in a little used side laboratory. Dust was a thin veneer on top of the machine. A fuzzy gray layer that could have been centuries old. Suddenly the console hummed. The screen popping into brightness, displaying overlapping data as John Sheppard touched the keys. Instantly it obeyed his commands, fulfilled his requests. The bright screen was filled with star charts, with planets, with colored lines that only intersected at a few places.

The ambient glow threw John's handsome face into stark relief against the other disused equipment nearby. Gold light playing on the strong planes of his cheeks, his jaw. Tinging his brilliant green eyes to a bluish-green hue that matched the walls across the room. He typed in his passwords, accessing the data he needed. Long fingers moving confidently over the dusty keys.

"That again?" Rodney McKay asked, eying the screen irritably. "You pulled me away from a potentially vital piece of dynamic physics theory for that?"

John frowned, standing back from the screen. "Yes. Look at it. Look at it!" he repeated, voice curt. "I need you to do a full systems check. I need you to check everything three months back up until now, in every system, every log, every data base."

"What for?" Rodney asked, perplexed. "Look, you showed me this before, and you seem to think it is significant. I don't see anything except a bunch of planets and lines. Maybe if you told me what those lines and those planets represented I would be better able to see whatever is you think I should be seeing."

"It's a collation of data. Mission logs, Moira's research, yours, all of it. And the only thing that connects them is the fact that they are not connected."

"Oh. Well, that certainly clarifies things," Rodney snapped. Glared at the screen again. "Wait." Rodney sat, studied the screen. Ran his finger along it, creating a clean line through a film of dust. "Missions? Moira's research? Mine? They're all disparate, right. Separate fields of inquiry, of interest."

"Are they? I mean, they are now, aren't they? Look. We're being driven, well, guided away from whatever you two are pursuing out that way." John pointed towards the outer edges of the screen. "I need to know by what, or by whom. And you can access the systems much faster than I can. I need to know–"

"Whoa! Wait!" Rodney turned in the chair to him. "You think someone is deliberately keeping us away from those planets? Why? You think...no. No! You can't think that Elizabeth would–"

"Keep your voice down!" John warned, glancing at the open doorway to the main physics lab.

"Honestly, I don't know what to think. And until I do you are to keep this to yourself. Just see who accessed what and when and if there are any glitches in our systems, particularly in regards to the mission rosters. Got it?"

Rodney nodded. "Okay, okay. Give me an hour. No, half. You know there are only a certain number of people who have this kind of access to our systems."

"I know," John agreed.

"And you know that of those certain people only a few less have complete access to every byte of data in those systems and can access it."

"I know," John repeated.

"And you know that of those certain people only three have the security clearances and the command codes to bypass any fire walls to access those..." Rodney paused. "Whoa! Wait! If not Elizabeth, and it surely can't be her, then who? It's certainly not me! Am I a suspect? Are you? You, you think there's a traitor in–"

"No. Nothing that dramatic. Just see what you can find, Rodney. And keep it close," John advised sternly. He shut off the computer. The screen blinked into blackness again, devoid of data. "It could be nothing. It's probably nothing." He met Rodney's startled gaze.

"But what if it's not nothing, John. And why? What possible reason could there be to–"

"Don't know. Let's see if there is an intruder first, shall we?" He glanced down at his watch. "Shit. I'm late. Gotta go. Keep me posted!" He sprinted from the room.

Moira Sheppard sighed. She sat on the ramp to a Jumper. A picnic basket loaded with food was next to her. Next to that sat a cooler full of beverages. Along with a blanket, a few towels. She glanced at her watch, impatiently glared at the other ships. She had been waiting nearly forty minutes now, but there was still no sign of John. She stood. Walked down the ramp. Closed the bulky blue sweater over her, concealing the visible baby bump, her fuller hips and breasts. "Evan!" she called stridently.

Evan Lorne almost dropped the wrench he was holding. He emerged from the belly of a Jumper, smiled and moved to her. Olive BDUs messy. He wiped a spot of grease from his cheek. "Moira." He glanced past her at the ship. The supplies waiting on the ramp to be loaded. Or unloaded he wasn't sure. "Going somewhere?"

"I was. I've been stood up, apparently. Can you come with me? I need to get out of the city, just for a few hours," she complained.

"The colonel stood you up? I find that hard to believe," Evan noted.

"Do you see him?" She gestured expansively around the Jumper bay. "It's been forty-five minutes now! And not even a word from him! Please, Evan, I've got a lovely lunch all packed and ready to go. I've got beer," she added with a smile.

"If it was up to me, then yes, Moira, we'd already be gone. Beer and all. But I can't just–"

"Of course you can!" She took his arm, led him up the ramp. "Grab that, please. Just a quiet lunch on the mainland. Don't worry about John. Apparently he's too busy right now to even notice if we slip away. Please, Evan."

He sighed. "All right...I can at least load this for you." He carried the basket and cooler into the ship, shaking his head, amused.

"Thank you, Evan. And you can fly the ship, right? Of course you can," she insisted. "It will be lovely, just the two of us. And I'll try not to talk too much science, okay? We can talk about that intern you were dating, what's her name?"

"Huh? Oh, that didn't last. I'd rather talk science," Evan quipped over his shoulder.

"Really?" Moira asked, causing him to laugh. She smiled. "Okay, then, major, just remember you said that. I can talk about science for hours." She sighed. "Makes a change from baby talk."

"Now that's funny," Evan remarked. "Maybe I'd prefer baby talk. No, I wouldn't."

"Moira!" John was sprinting across the Jumper bay. Long legs pumping in the gray pants. Black t-shirt molded to his lean torso, arms bent as he ran to her. He slowed, seeing her on the ramp. Evan behind her.

"Looks like you don't need me now," Evan remarked, ready to depart.

"No. Prep the ship." She pushed him into the vehicle, walking up the ramp. Turned as John watched, suddenly sped towards them. She held up a hand as his boot hit the ramp, effectively stopping him. "No, colonel. I've found a pilot, thank you."

John smiled. "Hilarious, Moira. Sorry. I got involved in–"

"Don't care. I don't care what you got involved in, or why you are so damn late for our lunch date, colonel. Evan is going to take me now," she stated. Serious.

"Oh he is, is he?" John asked, looking past her. "Major!"

"Understood, sir." Evan headed to the ramp.

"No!" Moira stood between them. "Evan's taking me, John. He has kindly agreed to go with me to the mainland since you couldn't be bothered."

John frowned. "I was trying to explain, Moira. I got stuck in a meeting and then I had to see Rodney about stuff, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, John. Maybe next time, huh?" She glanced back at Evan. "Prep the ship, Evan. I'm hungry. Let's go!"

Evan looked past her. "Sir?"

"Never mind him!" She turned back to John who was watching, alternately amused and irritated. "And don't you dare pull rank on him, colonel. I'll meet you when I feel like it. We're going and that's an end to it!"

John met Evan's gaze. Nodded. Looked back at his wife. "Just be back in exactly one hour, major. One."

"Two hours, colonel," she argued, "and don't you dare–"

"Colonel Sheppard to the conference room," sounded a voice on the PA, interrupting.

John swore under his breath. "Damn it! Look, Moira, if you could wait maybe half an hour I–"

"No! I'm tired of waiting, colonel. If you can't make time for your wife, your pregnant wife then I will find someone who can!" She seemed near tears, but glared at him. Turned. "Let's go, Evan! Now!" She turned back, shooed her husband off the ramp. Began to close it.

John stumbled off it, not sure if she was genuinely upset or just suffering a surge of hormones. "One hour, major!" he ordered. "And not a hair out of place! Understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure she wears a hat," Evan quipped. "Moira, up front, please."

Moira closed the ramp. Moved to the front of the ship and took the co-pilot's seat. "Thank you, Evan. I really need to get out of here for awhile and if Colonel John Sheppard can't be bothered to even spend a little time with me then he can go–"

"I'm sure he'd rather be with you than in some meeting," Evan soothed, glancing at her. "Are you okay, Moira?"

"Yes." She wiped her eyes. "Sorry. Damn hormones."

He smiled. "Atlantis, this is Lorne. Jumper two is a go. Open the bay doors."

"One hour, major." John's voice came over the comm loud and clear. Slightly irate.

"Yes, sir," Evan agreed, glancing at Moira again. She was leaning near the comm.

"Don't you have a meeting, colonel?" she snapped. "Sheppards out!" She shut off the comm. Annoyed. "Ignore him."

Evan smiled. "I can't. He's my superior officer, Moira. Not to mention your husband."

"Don't remind me," she sulked, staring at the viewport.


	2. Chapter 2

Fixed Action Pattern2

John shielded his eyes as sparks flew in every direction. He neared, squinting as the orange lights flared, then disappeared. "And when did this happen?" he asked, eying the now defunct console as it sputtered and wheezed, as if trying to catch its last breath.

Radek Zelenka's head popped up behind the console. He shoved a pair of goggles up to reveal his bewildered stare. "Only ten minutes ago! We were trying to access a new system and then...well...poof!"

"Poof?" John asked, trying not to smile. He regarded the console. It's blackened exterior. Technicians were swarming around it like bees around a hive. "Could you be more specific?"

"No."

"What were you trying to access, exactly?" John asked, folding his arms over his chest. He glanced round the lab. Everything else appeared to be in order.

"Only some older data files. I was trying to see if there were any references to that alien tech that Rodney is currently assembling. When I encountered a power surge, then...well..."

"Poof. Got it." John turned suddenly as Elizabeth entered the lab.

"What happened?" she asked, staring wide-eyed at the destroyed console.

"Could there have been a self-destruct?" John asked, turning back to Radek.

"No. That is to say I see no signs of any external device. Whatever did this was internal."

"What? Are you saying there was some kind of deletion code inside that?" Elizabeth asked, nearing. She glanced at John. "Whatever happened?"

"You tell me. Radek was just accessing old data when...poof."

"Poof?" Elizabeth smiled, but grew serious. "How bad?"

"Bad enough. It will take days to get this up and running again. And any data is now lost," the Czech scientist sighed. "It's a wonder that Rodney hasn't stormed in here shouting already."

"He's tracking something," John and Elizabeth said at the same time. They eyed each other, mutually surprised.

"What?" Radek looked from one to the other.

"A storm. A pretty big one from the initial scans," Elizabeth noted. Brow raised as she studied John. "Is that what you meant?"

"Yeah." John turned back to Radek. "See what you can salvage, if anything. Wait, a storm?" Without another word he spun on his heels and headed for the control room.

Evan shrugged at Moira. "So...you don't know about going on missions yet?" he asked. He downed the beer, after finishing his sandwich. Eyed the peaceful blue sky. They were sitting on the blanket, shaded by an enormous tree. A breeze blew, fluttering the corners of the blanket. The tendrils of Moira's ponytail. He eyed the other bottles of beer in the cooler. Refrained.

Moira finished her second sandwich. "Not yet. I don't think John would stop me going if you really needed me or if I insisted. But if he didn't go along with us then either Ronon or Jason Reynolds would."

"Your bodyguards," Evan recalled. "Yeah, I figured."

She drank some water. "Sorry. He won't budge on that, I'm afraid. Does this mean you don't want me to go on any–"

"No. Of course not! I do want you back on my team, Moira, if only to keep me from killing Kavanaugh." They smiled at the jest. "It's just...I don't know. It's awkward, you know? Having a fifth man whose orders are no doubt from the colonel himself, and not necessarily from me."

She nodded. "Have they, have they found a replacement for Aaron?" she asked gently, touching his hand a moment. A shared grief between them.

Evan nodded. "Yes. Some other marine. I'm sure he'll be fine, but you know. It's not the same." He regarded the green grass, the rolling landscape stretching to the horizon. A bank of clouds were forming along it. "That poor kid. Of all the ways to have gone, to have gone like that..."

"Killed by a Wraith queen, I know. Carson said, Carson said it was quick," she soothed. Shuddering inwardly at the attack. The queen who had invaded the city under the guise of being Aaron Josephes. The queen who had nearly killed her and the unborn child she carried. She touched her abdomen a moment. Saw Evan's brooding guilt lingering. "And have they chosen my replacement yet? My temporary replacement?" she asked to lighten the mood.

Evan smiled, shaking his morose thoughts aside. He met her gaze. "They've bandied a few names around. A few marines. Weir wants a scientist, though. That Julie what's her name. Some geologist, I think."

"Oh." Moira smirked.

Evan's gaze narrowed. "What's that smile for, Moira?"

"Nothing, Evan. I think Julie Armstrong would be an excellent addition to your team. She is a geologist, a very highly skilled scientist and not too bad on the eyes either," she teased.

"No. No matchmaking, Moira," he warned, pointing at her. She laughed at his expression. A gust of wind blew suddenly, slamming the hamper shut.

Rodney was scooting back and forth between two monitors, fingers running over the keyboards. Screens lit up with data. He held up a hand, hearing the distinctive clomping of John's boots behind him. "Before you even ask, no. It's not as bad as the big storm but it looks bad enough. Teyla's gone to alert the Athosians on the mainland. I'm reading gale force winds."

"Oh. Trajectory?" John asked, eying the screen.

"Northwest, possibly. But it's strong, John, and only gaining strength. And will gain even more once it crosses the mainland and hits the open water."

John glanced at his watch. "That's it, then." He tapped his earpiece. "Major Lorne, copy? This is Colonel Sheppard." He waited. "Lorne, please respond. Status?" He scowled, moved to the comm. "Can you boost this signal?"

"Of course. Hang on. There will be interference from the storm. What's going on?"

"A picnic. Never mind," John refuted before Rodney could ask. "Major Lorne, this is Atlantis calling. Respond."

Evan sighed, as the colonel's irate voice suddenly filled his ear. "Great." He tapped his earpiece. "This is Lorne. Acknowledged, sir. Status? Well, we had a delicious lunch and I've just about convinced Moira to go skinny dipping in the ocean waves."

John scowled, but smiled hearing his wife's laugh. "I see, major. That's very funny. So funny, in fact, you've just been reassigned to Athosian latrine digging duty." Rodney laughed.

"John!" Moira scolded, leaning close to Evan. "Don't be a spoilsport!"

"Major, you need to return now."

"John! It's only been thirty minutes!" she protested.

"There is a storm approaching from the northwest," he explained. "A big one."

"A storm? Really, John, that's the best you could come up with?" she mocked, glancing at the blue skies overhead. "A storm? There's no storm here." A gust of wind blew, nearly toppling the cooler. "Oh oh."

"Acknowledged, sir. We're on our way back to the city."

"No!" Moira stubbornly insisted. "We've got another thirty before we–"

"I gave you an order, major." John ignored her protests.

"Yes, sir. On our way. Lorne out." He stood. "I'll prep the ship. Can you–"

"Yes, go on!" Moira sighed, stood. "I guess it is a bit windy." She looked at the sky. "Wow." She pointed to the horizon.

Evan turned. Dark clouds were rolling across the terrain. Like a massive black carpet being unfurled, obliterating the blue sky. Lightning flared. Unusual streaks of red and blue. "Oh oh." He sprinted to the nearby Jumper.

Moira hurried. Gathering the leftover food, the beer. The blanket. She grabbed the hamper and the cooler, hastened to the ship. Was nearly knocked off her feet by a blast of cold, icy air. "Evan!"

He whirled. Ran to her and grabbed the hamper, the cooler. "Here!" He helped her up the ramp. Closed the hatch. She moved to the co-pilot's seat, feeling a shiver. Strapped in as he joined her. He powered the ship. "Looks like the colonel wasn't kidding."

"I wasn't," John's voice came over the comm, acerbic. "Get that ship off the ground, major! Moira, are you strapped in?"

"Yes, John!" she snapped. Shook her head.

The Jumper rose. Shook a little as the winds buffeted it. Rose higher. "Look!" Evan pointed. The storm was rapidly advancing. Rain began to pelt the ship. Big drops of water. Little pellets of ice pinging. He activated the HUD. "Oh oh."

"Oh oh?" she echoded, staring. The storm clouds seemed to spread for miles. Trees shook violently under them. The light in the sky was quickly being doused by the massive advance of darkness.

"It's big. Not huge, but blocking our way back to the city. We'll have to go around the–"

"Tree!" Moira exclaimed.

An enormous elm was uprooted and flying right for them. Evan veered wildly but the wind caught the ship, spun it awkwardly. The tree hit the drive pod. The shield wavered, flickering. Electricity sparked all along the ship, an eerie echo to the lightning. Another buffet of wind sent them skyward, up towards the dark clouds.

"Whoa!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Lorne, report!" John's hands clutched the console, inadvertently causing a power surge. "Shit!" he remarked as the lights flared brightly and a screen rose to display the entire planet.

"Storm's gaining on us, sir, nearly pulling us in! Drive pod hit by a tree!"

"Tree?" Rodney asked in disbelief.

"We need to set down, sir! Can't fly in it! We'll find a far spot and weather it on the–"

"Negative, major!" John argued. "You need to get back to the city! Can you safely fly her to–"

"We'll be fine on the mainland, John! We can batten down the hatches and stay in one piece as it flies over us!" Moira argued, grabbing the chair as they bumped along the air currents.

"Something's wrong! Gear's stuck! We can't fly in this, sir. The wind's too strong and the lightning is messing with hold on!" Evan dove the ship as another tree flew towards them. It was an awkward descent. The ship was spinning like a top, bumping wildly.

"Major! Report! Major!" John was tense, nearly shouting. He waited. Waited. The comm crackled. "Major!"

"John!" Moira's voice was intermittent, broken by static. "Down...vector...what? Vector six, grid seven...doing...drive pod's out...to...no inertia dampeners to fly...a tree..."

"Moira? Moira, what? Moira!"

Only empty static answered John's anxious demand.


	3. Chapter 3

Fixed Action Pattern3

The ship landed hard. Grinding into the earth, spewing dirt and rocks as it screeched to a halt. A tree fell across the viewport, cracking the glass as the shield hissed, sputtered. Died. Evan quickly unstrapped. "Shit! Moira, are you all right?"

"Yes, fine!" she said, unstrapping quickly. Staring at the tree blocking their view. At the crack spreading along the glass. "You?"

"Yes." He slammed his hand on the comm. "Atlantis, this is Lorne! Copy? We're down safe! I repeat, down safe! Request immediate assistance! Ouch!" He drew back as his hand as the console crackled. Electricity danced along it. "I hope they heard me. Don't worry, Moira. The colonel is on his way, I have no doubt. If anyone can fly in this–"

"It's him, I know." She sighed. Stood. "We're safe here, right?"

"Yes, for now." He took her arm. "We better move back. That's going to go any second," he noted, as the cracks were spreading like a spider web on the viewport now. The wind could be heard whistling all around the ship, as if seeking entrance. "I'll see if I can get any systems running." He moved to the controls, flipped down a panel. "Colonel Sheppard is so going to kill me," he mourned.

Moira followed him to the back of the ship as it rocked slightly. "It's not your fault. You got us down safely." She shook her head. "He's going to be pissed at me, though. Damn it."

"I bet he grounds us both," Evan joked. They laughed.

"I'm sure they're fine, John," Rodney soothed, tapping the console. "All I can get is static. Too much ionic interference. If they are on the mainland they will be fine, right? They–"

"Keep tracking it," John ordered, striding out of the control room. Maintaining a calm he didn't feel. Convincing himself that Evan had landed safely, that Moira was fine. He increased his pace, rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Elizabeth. He caught himself.

"John! You're not–" she began, guessing his intentions.

"Of course I am!" He moved past her but she grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"John, no! It's too dangerous! If they are on the mainland then they will be fine! The Athosians are seeking shelter in the caves and will be fine! Teyla wouldn't agree with them if she thought for a moment that it wasn't safe. Let the storm pass and then you can–"

"No. I can't take that risk! I'll go get them before that storm reaches its full–"

"I told you the Athosians will be fine in–"

"No. Moira's out there, and so is Lorne, in a damaged ship!" John clarified.

Elizabeth stared, surprised for a moment. "Oh. I see. But they are on the mainland, right? Safe in a ship, even if it is damaged. John, wait!" She detained him, not relinquishing her hold on his arm.

"No, they are not safe! Have you seen the size of that storm? It will swallow the mainland!"

"You can't possible fly in that storm!" Elizabeth argued, her grasp tightening on his arm.

John glowered. "I can. And if you think for one second I am going to just leave my pregnant wife out there then you don't know me at all!" He freed his arm, sprinted past her and to the Jumper bay. "Open the hatch! Jumper one is away!" he issued orders, making record time as he powered the ship, strapped in and directed the vehicle up and out of the city.

Cursing to himself he flew the Jumper across the blue waters. Right towards the dark mass that was advancing along the mainland like a creeping plague. He activated the scans, searching for the downed ship. Blinking against the odd flashes of lightning that were erratic. Intense. The sky grew darker, darker. Squalls of rain nearly blinding him as the ship was shaken by powerful wind gusts. The shield flickered, flickered but held. He flew with the air currents, swerving to avoid flying debris. Trees. Large boulders. "Ah." Spotting the Jumper he slowed. "Lorne! This is Sheppard! Copy? Moira!" Silence. He carefully eased the Jumper towards the ground, close to the other ship. Trying to avoid the hurling debris and the vicious wind shaking the vessel like a toy. The rain hammering. Hail pounding.

Evan closed the panel. "That's it. Circuits are fried, I'm afraid. At least we had heat for a little while. The electrical discharge is massive."

Moira nodded, hugging herself. "Did you see the lightning? It was...weird." She stepped back as he moved past her to the front. "Be careful, Evan! John will be here soon," she assured.

"Comm's down. The surge of electricity damaged everything! It...oh shit!" Evan whirled. "Duck!" He dove as Moira ducked behind the seat. The viewport shattered inwards. Glass flew everywhere. The tree was violently shoved into the ship. Wind howled. Rain and ice were pelting the control panels. The ship shook, like a toy caught in a dog's mouth. "Are you okay?" Evan shouted, moving to his feet awkwardly.

Moira stood, catching hold of the seat for support. "Yes! You...you're cut!"

"What? Oh." He touched his face. A little blood smeared his fingers. "It's nothing! Shit!" He turned back to see the damage.

"John will be here soon!" Moira shouted over the wind. Nearly falling as the vessel was shaking side to side now. A loud banging made her jump. Whirl to see John's face at the hatch. "John!" She hastened to it, tried to open it. "Evan! Evan, I can't get it open!"

"Hang on!" Evan moved to her. "On three. One. Two. Three." They pried together at the manual mechanism. Slowly the hatch opened. Creaking in protest. John grabbed the edge and pushed, pushed. Let go as the door slammed to the ground.

"Moira!" John stepped into the ship, wind and rain at his back nearly shoving him up the ramp. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, John, we managed to land the–"

"Are you sure? You're all right? John junior?" he persisted, catching her arm. Voice terse as he eyed her up and down.

Moira stared. He was drenched. Water sparkling in his sodden hair, on his skin. Ice pellets clinging to his jacket, his pants. "Yes. We're fine, John!" She had to shout over the wind.

"Colonel, am I glad to see you! Nothing's functioning! All systems are–"

"That's another ship you've cost me, major! Let's go!" John removed his jacket. Draped it around Moira. "Hold it over you, Moira. Hold onto me. The wind's gale force."

"Evan! Grab the food and the beer. The towels!" she called as John was leading her.

"Beer?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

She smiled. "I knew that would get you out here, colonel."

He briefly smiled. "That and saving your pert little ass again. Not to mention my son. Let's go. Hold onto me, Moira."

John hadn't been kidding about the wind. Moira would have fallen if not for John's body shielding her, steadying her as she draped the jacket over them. The rain fell in a torrent of heavy, cold drops. Hail mixing with it, tiny ice pellets that stung the bare skin. The wind shrieked in the trees. Moira pressed herself against John's back as he stoically led her against the wind, leaning into it. Evan followed, nearly losing the hamper but gripping the cooler tightly.

Once in the ship John shut the hatch, moved to the pilot's seat. He powered the ship. "Moira!"

She shook out his jacket, moved to the co-pilot's seat. Sat after John nodded at her. She handed him a towel. He took it, wiped his face, his arms, his hair. She stared as his black t-shirt clung to him. As did the gray pants. She pulled her bulky blue sweater tightly around her, glad of its warmth although it was drenched. She draped John's jacket around herself as a shiver swept through her body. Water trickled along her skin.

"Moira, next time you will wait for me no matter how late I am. Is that understood?"

"Sorry, John. But how we were to know there was a storm?"

"Is that understood?" he snapped, meeting her gaze.

"Yes, colonel."

He relaxed a little. "Strap in. You too, Lorne. This is going to be rough."

"Can you fly in this, John?" Moira asked. Outside the viewport it was a sea of darkness. Waves of rain and ice. The wind howled. Lightning flared in spectacular daggers of red and blue.

John glanced at her. The ship rose slowly. Buffeted by winds it swayed. John tilted the axis of this ascent. Rose higher, higher. "The trick is to use the air currents. Not to fight them." They skimmed along the air, making some headway. The storm loomed all around them. Close. Rain all but obliterated the view. The ship rocked. "Shields are holding. For now. Major, you said a tree hit you?"

"Yes, sir. Uprooted and tossed at us like a javelin. The shield held but it hit the drive pod. The static discharge fried all systems," Evan explained.

"Wouldn't we be safer on the ground?" Moira asked, trying to see past the rain.

"No. We're going to have to go over it. Hold on." John ascended quickly. The ship bounced but was pushed higher, higher. John accelerated, moving to accommodate the air currents. The gusts of the storm assaulting the small ship. He activated the HUD. It flickered uncertainly. "Son of a bitch is big. Growing stronger too. Gale force winds...shit. Hurricane category five. We need to contact Atlantis."

Moira stared as they were engulfed in clouds and darkness. No wind. No rain. Only an eerie silence. A pressure. She glanced at John. He was studying the controls, the HUD, the viewport intently. He licked his lips, gaze darting everywhere at once.

"Cloud mass is enormous. We'll either have to go across the planet or over the...no. I've got a better idea. Moira, touch the comm unit there and boost our signal."

"What?"

He glanced at her. "Double."

"Huh? Oh!" she realized, saw his quick smile. She touched it, concentrated. The panel emitted a stronger glow.

"I should have thought of that," Evan muttered. Shook his head.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard, do you copy? Atlantis, do you read?" The ship bounced, swayed. Flew higher, higher. Suddenly settled as they rose above the storm at last.

"John? John, this is Atlantis!" Rodney's voice was loud and clear. "Where–"

"Above the storm. It's big, Rodney. Not as big as the big one, like you said. But close. I'd advise raising the shield to avoid flooding the lower levels."

"What about you?"

"We're coming in, but under."

"What?"

"What?" Moira echoed Rodney. She looked at John.

"Moira," John reminded. She concentrated again on the comm. "Yes, Rodney. We're coming in under the city. The underwater bay. It will be safer than flying around this thing. And quicker. Sheppard out. Okay, Moira."

She sat back, freed the console. "Great, now I'm a radio as well as an experiment," she remarked with a sigh. Evan laughed. She smiled at him, but eyed John. He was flying the ship, turning it round and heading speedily across the mainland. "John?" She wondered at his lack of humor.


	4. Chapter 4

Fixed Action Pattern4

John kept his eyes on the viewport, the controls. The sporadic readings that were flickering with the static electrical discharge tainting the air. He squinted against the flashes of red and blue lightning. The shield was a constant hum, a yellowish glow enfolding the ship that was almost tangible as it was mercilessly assaulted by the rain and the hail. "Approaching descent. Shields are at one hundred percent. Whoa!"

Moira gasped, Evan shouted as a tree was flying in a deadly spin right for them. As if some giant hand had thrown it like a dart. "John!" she cried, but he swerved at the last possible moment. Dove. The tree flew over them harmlessly. Leaves brushing against the shield and making it crackle. An alarm sounded, was silenced.

"That was close, sir," Evan commented when he could breathe again.

"Too close," Moira agreed. Looked at her husband. He was silent. Swerving once more as the ship was guided into a spiraling descent. Rapidly they were approaching the ocean waves. Darting through the storm clouds like a diving bird. His handsome face drawn in concentration, brows furrowed. The black waves were crashing wildly as they got closer. Closer. The wind rocked the ship. John's hands tightened on the controls. "Um, John? John, we won't encounter any, um anomalies down there, will we?" she tentatively asked.

He replied without looking at her. "No."

"I think that particular anomaly was on the other side of the mainland, Moira," Evan elaborated, exchanging a puzzled glance with her as she turned to him. "And besides, McKay closed it for good, didn't he? There's no danger."

"Descending," John stated, as if Evan hadn't spoken. "Slowing speed. This will be rough so hold on. Shields are at maximum but the waters are choppy."

The ship slowed. Skimmed the roiling waves and submerged. It bucked wildly as darkness and water swallowed it. The ship's lights revealed little of the murky depths. Moira felt a chill and pulled John's jacket tightly around her, shivering. John caught the motion in his peripheral vision and adjusted the heat to a higher setting as he steadied the vehicle. He glanced at her. She was wet. Appeared worried, uncertain. Was chewing on her lower lip in consternation.

John regretted his brusqueness, his anger. Blaming them both when neither were at fault. His own anger a result of his very real fear for her safety. "We'll be fine, Moira," he said quietly.

Moira met his gaze, felt tears. Ineffable sadness. "Will we, John?" she asked. His anger had hit her like a wall. As if he was blocking her. Keeping her separated from him.

He stared at her. Taken aback by her mood. He touched her hand. "Of course, Moy," he assured in a low voice. Intimate. He wanted to kiss her, hold her. But he freed her hand and concentrated on guiding the ship to the calmer depths of the ocean. He activated the HUD. "Atlantis is ten knots that way." He guided the ship around a fantastically gnarled coral formation. Bright oranges and pinks as the ship's lights hit it. Steadily the vessel plowed through the waves towards the safety of the city.

Evan felt awkward. A most definite third wheel. He unstrapped. Stood. "I'll check the systems, sir. Make certain they haven't been affected."

"Yeah, you do that, major," John agreed curtly. Knowing full well the ship was fine, that all the systems were fine and operational.

"John! It's not his fault! It's not anyone's fault!" she snapped, hearing the blame in his voice.

"Then why am I piloting this ship and my pregnant wife out of a danger she shouldn't have been in in the first place?" he snapped, angered again.

She glared at him. "You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Because your pregnant wife was being selfish, all right? Happy now?"

"Moira," he relented, but as he touched her arm she drew away from him, turning away.

"You asked. Happy now, colonel? I'm sorry, all right? I forgot!"

"Forgot what?" he asked, eyes on her now as the course was smooth and steady. "Moira?"

"I forgot! I'm sorry!" she snapped. Sighed. Voice falling softly, sadly. "I forgot I was married to the military commander of Atlantis. Not my John. With whom I can steal away whenever I want to be alone with him. Sorry. Won't happen again."

He smiled. "I'm both, baby," he replied quietly. "You're right, Moira. It's no one's fault. I was just pissed. Worried. You and John junior being in needless danger. I felt...I...I shouldn't have blamed you." He buried his emotions, very aware of Evan behind them.

"Don't blame Evan either," she muttered. Sounding not entirely convinced. She turned towards him, caught his hand. "John, how are we going to do this? How are we going to manage to, to raise a child and be together and have time to–"

"We will. Don't you worry, sweetheart." He leaned close. Kissed her. "We will. I promise," he vowed, gaze locked with hers. A chime broke the moment. He leaned away from her, freeing his hand. "Proximity alert. Oh. Look at that, Moira."

Moira wiped her eyes, sighed. Needing to be closer. Needing to feel his strength, his love, his warmth. Instead she looked out of the viewport. "What is it?"

"Hell if I know. Hey, Lorne, take a look at this," John invited.

Evan closed the panel. Moved to the seat behind John. "It looks like a city tower, sir."

The ruined architecture was on its side, prone in the sands. Coral crawled along its gray material. Fish darted in and out, a living, weaving pattern of purples and blues. "That's what I was thinking. Maybe it broke off during the war and got submerged," John ventured. "Moira?"

She shrugged. "Could be, I guess." She seemed disinterested. Was drawing into herself, wrapped in her own thoughts, emotions. Longings.

"Those scorch marks at three o'clock. See them, sir?" Evan pointed. "Structural damage?"

"No." John smiled. "Blast points. Too accurate for structural damage. Only Wraith are that precise." He glanced at Moira to see if she had caught the Star Wars reference.

Moira briefly smiled. "And we know why Wraith would want to slaughter the Ancients." She met John's answering smile.

Evan eyed them. "Am I missing something?"

"No. Nothing at all." John paused. "Lando." They laughed.

"Oh. I get it now, sir," Evan realized. Laughed.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Approaching the bay." John guided the ship up into the bay, under the city. Rose through the waters and smoothly landed. "Lock it tight, sargent. We're in. Home at last. Next time, major, you better check the weather report."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Moira." He touched her shoulder.

"Major, grab me one of those beers, would you? Then you're dismissed." John took the offered beer, waited until Evan had left the ship. He opened the beverage, drank deeply.

"John?" Moira unstrapped, stood. "Shouldn't we–"

"In a sec, sweetheart." He unstrapped. Stood. "Hold this, please." He gave her the beer, moved past her to check the other console. Moira watched him lean over to check the panel. Straighten and reach up to adjust a panel. The wet clothes were damp but still clung to every muscle, every motion of his long, lean body. He stepped close to her, powered down the ship's systems. "Thanks." He took the bottle. Downed the beer. Moira stared as he swallowed, swallowed. Adam's apple bobbing as he tilted his head back. He licked his lips, tossed the bottle back into the opened cooler. Met her gaze. "Jacket?"

"Huh?" Moira had been captivated, enamored. "Oh." She removed it, handed it to him. He put it on, smiled seeing her disappointment as his torso and arms were concealed from her.

"Nice and warm, baby. And still wet. Hmm..what does that remind me of?" he teased.

"John Sheppard," she warned.

He pulled her into his arms. Finally kissing her. Kiss after kiss, pulling her against him into the security of his arms. Mouth entwined with hers until she murmured, shifting along his body.

"John, oh John..." she whispered, but pulled back, hands on his chest. "Wait."

"Wait?" he asked. "I'll warm you, baby. Head to toes and all the luscious bits in between, don't you worry," he intoned against her skin. Teasingly licked up to her earlobe. Nibbled.

Moira whimpered softly. Fingers tightening on his wet shirt. "I don't want to be interrupted, sweetie. Later we can–"

"No, now. You're shivering, baby." He kissed her. Ran his hands up and down her arms. "Wet." He ran his mouth down her throat. "I want to lick every drop of rain off you," he murmured into her ear.

Moira kissed him. Slid her hands down to his pants. "I want to peel off every inch of clothing from you." She caressed. "Hmm...colonel...seems you are still standing down."

"Not for much longer, baby," he assured.

"Much longer? How much longer is it, sweetie?" she teased with a smile. A suggestive look. "Is it bigger, sweetie? Harder now? Ooh, colonel, there's definitely a surge of some strategic activity going on here." Her fingers were plying him, grasping as he reacted to her touch.

He smiled. "Keep doing that, baby, and you will have your hands full of my activity." He pulled her closer, kissing her. "Jumper sex, baby?" he asked into her ear.

She laughed. "No, sweetie. Bed." She stepped back from him. "I want that big, comfy, warm bed. Oh! And you too."

"Hilarious, Moira. Let's check the storm first." He led her out of the ship.

Moira disengaged her arm from his. "I'll go on ahead and get of these wet clothes."

"No. I want to help you out of them, and besides, you won't be needing any clothes," he said with a smile. "Stay with me, Moy. This won't take long." He led her into the control room. Ignored the stares at their bedraggled, wet appearance. Their steps trailing water on the clean floor. Water dripping from their clothes. "Rodney, status?"

"See for yourself." Rodney pointed to the balcony. "It's surging over us now. Shield is holding steady. The static discharge is tremendous! You got back just in time, John. Moira, you okay?" he asked, staring at her.

Moira nodded. "Fine, just cold." She tried to free herself from John's gentle grasp again. "In fact I can't wait to get out of these wet clothes! John!" she softly complained as he gently caught her arm again, not letting her go. Not letting her out of his sight.

"I'm glad you made it back safely," Elizabeth began, but John ignored her. Pulled Moira across the control room.


	5. Chapter 5

Fixed Action Pattern5

John led Moira to the balcony. His hand gently guiding her as he touched her lower back. She still had hold of his arm, relenting to his desire. They stared up at the shield. The storm glowered over it, a dark, roiling mass. Almost like a living thing. A monster come to devour them. Electrical discharges flashed. Bolts of blue and red energy dancing crazily along the shield, unable to penetrate. Water ran ceaselessly. Rivers streaking the shield with force. "Wow. Look at that, Moira!" He pointed. A flash of bright blue flared along the shield. Sparking red and pink as the two electrical currents met and fought. "Hey, Rodney! Did you see that? Those lightning flashes are like the ones we saw on that planet, remember? Where we were stranded!"

"Yes, I remember. Must be the same kind of electrical current and volume, and yes, the shield will hold," he assured, glancing up at the panoply of the storm raining over the city. "It can hold back a tsunami! It's absorbing the lightning discharges so there is no danger like the last time."

Feeling Moira's hold on his arm tighten he looked at her. She was staring down at the ocean. The violent surges of black, then violet waves as the lightning illuminated them. Crashing in an eerie silence far below them. Wild waves that would have breeched the lower levels if not for the shield holding them at bay. "Moy? It's all right," he soothed, but her grip tightened further.

Moira tugged, looking at the floor. "John...please...I can't...I feel queasy...looking at that..." she stammered. A feeling of vertigo made her blink, lean on him for a moment.

"All right, sweetheart." He led her back to the control room. "Are you all right? Should I send for Carson? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

"No, I'm better now," she assured, but kept hold of his arm. An anchor as she felt uneasy again. Oddly threatened although she knew she was perfectly safe in the city. With John at her side.

"John, John, I'm cold. So tired and cold. I just want...I just want to go to bed. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just want to go to bed, to be in bed with you, with you. To sleep...John..."

Her stammering voice was falling so softly John had to bend down to hear her. "Ssh," he soothed, arm sliding around her. "Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Let's go." He glanced at Rodney who was busily monitoring the storm. At Elizabeth who was watching them, about to intervene but his look silenced her. He guided her out of the control room.

Rumbling thunder made Moira jump. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, John! I don't know what it is! The storm or, or being cold and wet or, or the hormones! I just feel I have to get away from it. I want to be in bed with you!" she stammered tearfully, clinging.

"All right, Moira. Then that's exactly what we'll do. Are you sure you don't want me to send for Carson first?" he repeated as they entered their room.

Moira disengaged his arm. "No, no, I'm fine. Better now. I..." She was staring at the floor. "Something's in the storm making me all...I'll go get ready for, for, for bed!" She almost ran to the bathroom. Closed the door.

John waited, expecting to hear her getting sick, but he only heard water running. He stared at the door a moment, baffled, concerned. Worried. He crossed to his room, frowning. Undressed, his gaze locked on the storm outside the window. He tapped his earpiece. "Rodney, run a scan on that storm."

"A what?" Rodney's voice sounded skeptical. "John, where did you go? It's just a storm. With some spectacular lightning displays, but still just a storm. You should really see this!"

"I am. Just run a scan on the storm. It's affecting Moira weirdly."

"Weirdly? Moira? Well, she is pregnant, you know. It's probably just a mood swing or hypersensitivity to the–"

"Just run the scan. Let me know what you find. Sheppard out." John felt a vague uneasiness. Wondered if it was the storm or his worry over his wife. He pulled on his gray sweat pants, a gray Star Wars t-shirt. He moved back to their room. It was engulfed in darkness. Cold. The storm's spectacular lightning hit the walls, the floor. Spiky fingers of red and blue slashing the darkness. Hitting the bed where Moira lay huddled under the blankets. In her sabertooth cat pajamas. Her hair loose, spilling wildly along the pillows. John slipped in next to her, kissed her Drew her against him.

Moira snuggled. Holding onto him. "I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry! I don't know what–"

"Ssh, sweetheart," he soothed, kissing her again. Tasted tears. He stroked her hair, her back. "It's all right. I'm here now. Maybe there's something in there that's affecting you. Or it could just be stress. Relax, Moy. I'm here now. Nothing will hurt you or John junior." He watched the light show on the walls.

Moira closed her eyes. Thunder rumbled noisily. Waves crashed. She pressed herself into John. Felt his solidity, his warmth. His protection enveloping her. "I...I don't know why I feel like this, John. I can't explain it. Just, please just stay with me until I fall asleep. Once I fall asleep you can go. You can go, John, okay?"

"I'll stay with you all night, Moy, don't you worry. Relax. I'm not going to leave you." He kissed her brow. Closed his eyes, relaxing. The bed was comfortable. Warm. Moira's body soft as it pressed to his. Her need, her love, her trust keeping him in place.

"Sheppard, copy?"

John carefully tapped his earpiece. "Go ahead, Rodney," he said quietly. He glanced at Moira as she slowly relaxed his arms. All but buried in the blankets.

"There's nothing. Just an unusual amount of electrical discharge. High static energy in the air, common enough in any storm. It will probably be over us completely in about an hour. Is Moira okay?"

"Better now. I need to stay with her, though. You're sure there's nothing else?"

"Nothing else," Rodney assured, eying the monitors again. "It's just a storm, John. An atmospheric event. The low pressure is giving me a headache, though. How do you feel?"

John considered. "Yeah, me too. Tired. A little uneasy."

"Probably because you are worried about Moira. Look, I'll leave the sensors on, just to be absolutely sure."

"Thanks, Rodney. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece. "Moira?" He gently nudged her.

"John..." She slid a little over him, fingers still tight on his arm, his shirt. "Don't go."

He kissed her. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Relax. Go to sleep." He watched the storm again. Flashes of lightning creating monstrous shadows in the corners. Colors stroking the shield with the water. He pondered her reaction.

"John!" Moira lifted up suddenly. "Don't stare at the light! Don't stare at the storm lights! I...I don't know why...I...just..."

"All right, sweetheart." He kissed her, drew her back down to him. "I won't. Go to sleep, Moy. You are safe. I'm safe. Ssh."

"No! John, John, don't look at it!" she insisted. She kissed him, snuggling. Pulled the blankets over their heads. "Don't look at it, John please! Trust me, John! I know I sound like a crazy, pregnant woman but you can't look at it!"

"I trust you, Moy. I can't see it now. Go to sleep, sweetheart," he soothed. Oddly the feeling of unease had slightly diminished once the storm was blocked from his view.

"Don't look at it, John! Don't look!"

He caught her mouth in a long kiss, drawing the covers over their heads again. "There. All right, Moy? Go to sleep." She snuggled against him. Holding onto him. He kissed her brow, closed his eyes. Stroking her arm, her hair until they both fell asleep.

Moira woke. She freed herself from John's arms, shoved the blankets off their heads. She sat. Glanced outside. A gentle rain was falling. The storm was gone. Only a gray sky remained in its wake. She stared. Felt calm. Warm. Safe. No longer felt the weird impending threat to herself, to the baby. To John. She slipped out of the bed, suddenly hungry. Moved to his room. To the fridge. Grabbed a sandwich, a lemonade. Returned to their room. Sat at the table and devoured the food, the beverage. Ravenous. Relaxing. Pondering her odd reaction to the storm. Happily musing on John's loving acquiescence to her strange demands. She glanced at him, feeling a surge of love for him. Looked back outside.

_John lifted his head. Pain lacerated his body. Tasting blood he spat. Struggled to his feet but was slammed down onto his knees. "Enough!" a man's voice shouted. "We'll do it!"_

"_No! John! John, please!" Moira cried, was dragged away from him. _

_The man's voice was terse. "You have to go, Moira! There's no other way!"_

_Moira sounded desperate. "You will spare him if I go? If I go?" _

"_Yes. My word." John jerked, hearing his own voice answering, sounding harsher, deeper. _

"_No, Moira, no!" John pleaded, was slammed down again. His own marines holding him back, keeping him from his wife. He saw Moira's tearful, sad face. _

"_I'm sorry, John. I made a deal to save you. To save the city." She led a little boy. _

_A little boy who looked back at him, face pinched in uncertainty. Fear. "Daddy? Daddy?"_

"No! NO!" John jerked awake, arms flailing. Tangled in the sheets, the nightmare. Clawing his way out of both. He sat, found himself alone. Heart hammering, scream strangled in his throat. "Moira!" He looked over as she leapt out of the chair, ran to the bed. She sat close, took his hand into hers. Felt it shaking slightly.

"John, John, what's wrong? I'm here, sweetie, I'm right here. Oh...oh no! The nightmare?"

He nodded. Unable to speak for a moment as his gaze took in her worried expression. Her love. The baby bump under her pajama top. "Yes. Get in!" he snapped, anger covering his fear. He flung the covers back.

Moira slipped in beside him. "John–"

"Every fucking time you leave our bed, Moira! I wake up and you're not next to me and it scares the living crap out of me! Where the hell were you?"

"I...I got hungry. I had a sandwich and–"

"Sorry!" he apologized, seeing her alarm. He sighed. Rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean to blame you. Shit!"

"It's all right, John."

"No! It's not all right, Moira!" He tried to dampen his anger, his fear. "I don't think I can take any more of this. This fucking nightmare over and over." He leaned back against the pillows, propping them up against the headboard. "Here."

She scooted next to him. He drew her against him, arm tight around her. She kissed him. "John, tell me. More details?"

"Moy." He closed his eyes. Lost himself in the scent of her, the feel of her. She traced her fingers on his chest. Gently kissed his throat. "It's...it's getting worse, Moy. You...you crying out for me. At first refusing to go. Some man telling you there was no choice. You had no choice. It was the only way. Me...beaten, bloody. Unable to help, held down by my own fucking marines! You made the deal to save me, to save the city. John junior...calling out for me, calling for his daddy..." John gulped, pulling away from her. Face in his hands to hide his sorrow, a few tears. The emotions raw, real. "Moy...I would rather die. I would rather die than lose either of you."

"No, John. Ssh." She caressed his back. Felt tears of sympathy. "Relax, sweetie. I told you I won't do it. I won't."

"You would, Moy. To save me you would."

"No. I would never involve John junior. Never. I'll never take him from you, John. Never."

He lowered his hands, turned to her. Touched her lips. "Even so, you would leave me. To save me. I won't let you do that. Ever. Moira, why do I keep having the same damn nightmare?"


	6. Chapter 6

Fixed Action Pattern6

Moira kissed him. Soft, gentle kisses to comfort. To console. To soothe him with her love. "Here, John." She guided him down to rest his head on her lap, on the blankets. She stroked his disordered hair, his temples. Softly kissed him. "I don't know, sweetie. We will figure it out, don't you worry. Look, John, you might want to consider talking to um, Heightmeyer, or–"

"No. I'm talking to you, Moira. The last thing I need is for it to get around that the military commander of Atlantis is losing his fucking mind," he protested wearily.

"You're not losing your mind, John. Not at all. You've set up those contingency plans, colonel?"

"Yes."

"All right. If this does actually happen we will be forewarned and able to prevent it, won't we? What if, however, this is something else?"

"It's not a manifestation of some deeper, darker turmoil, Moira. We've discussed this."

"Have we, John? Have we really?" she challenged. "Sweetie, there's obviously something wrong. Beyond the concerns and all of the stress, the worries, the changes we'll be facing when the baby comes."

He closed his eyes. Her caresses soothing. Comforting. Her voice alluring, full of love. Love for him and only him. But he disliked her words. "No. There's nothing beyond that, Moy," he refuted stubbornly. Frowning.

She sighed. "There must be, sweetie. Think. You can tell me anything, sweetie. Any little thing. I love you, John. All of you. Even the darkness."

"There's nothing," he repeated sullenly. Sulking. "I've never been happier, damn it! I have you. I have your love. All of it. I have the most exuberant, pleasurable sex with you. I have John junior on the way. My son. I have...I have everything."

"Yes. So why do you keep having the nightmare of losing everything?"

He opened his eyes, met her serious, thoughtful gaze. "How the hell should I know?"

"You do know." She gently tapped his brow. "The answer is in there, John."

He smiled. "Are you sure it's not down here, baby?" He drew her hand to his crotch.

"This is serious, John."

"I know. Sex will make me feel better, baby," he insisted. Guiding her fingers along the length of him.

"Stop deflecting, sweetie. Think. That's it, isn't it?"

"What? What's it?"

She stared at him. "It's because you have everything. Because you once had everything before and lost it. Didn't you? More than once," she realized. Reasoned.

He frowned. "No. I never had this. This much. You."

"So much more to lose then? Come on, John. Think! Talk to me. We can talk about anything."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me and just fuck me, baby, please," he argued. Drew her down into a lengthy kiss. Fingers tangling in her hair. Freeing her other hand to reach up, to fondle a breast.

She straightened. Freed his cock as she gently moved his hand off her. "John, we need to figure this out. Although I think we have, sweetie. Because of what happened before. I can understand that all too well, John. You had everything."

"No! Not like I have now, Moira! No."

"It's all right, John. I won't get upset or angry. Just be honest with me. Like you always are. You had everything. When you were a kid. Until you lost your mother." Her voice was soft, so gentle. John turned onto his side, head still on her lap. Staring at nothing. Her fingers were still caressing his hair. "You had everything again. A beautiful wife. Your family. Your job which you excelled at, I'm sure. Maybe you were even planning to have a baby?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Oh. Well, still...you had all of that," she resumed, wondering at his answer. "And then...Afghanistan. I'm guessing that's when things unraveled. You lost it all, John. Just when you were happy."

"No. I wasn't happy, Moy. I was just...content. I guess. But yes. That's when it all..."

"I know, John. What it's like to have everything. To lose it. But it's different, I know. For you. But it's worse now."

"Worse? It's better, Moy! So much better, Moira!" He sat suddenly, touched her arm. "You are everything to me!"

She smiled for a moment. "I mean it's worse because it's been so abrupt, so unexpected. Face it, John, this is the last thing you ever expected, or even wanted."

"No!" he argued. "I do want–"

"Let me finish, sweetie. You didn't want all of this. You weren't even looking for it. You tried to get out of this, remember? You broke up with me," she reminded.

"And every second was miserable, Moy," he refuted.

"Yes, it was," she agreed. "But things escalated. Faster and further than you'd expected. Then I expected. You found yourself involved with me, very involved. In love. Then boom! Abruptly married again. Then boom! Over six months later you have a child on the way. Suddenly the stakes kept getting higher and higher."

"I wouldn't change a thing, Moy," he insisted. "Not a single thing."

She smiled. "Come on, sweetie. You know deep down you are still reeling from all of this."

"Are you?" he inquired. He touched her thigh.

"It's different for me."

"How so?"

"We're talking about you, John," she evaded. "You're the one having the nightmare. Not me. It's all right, John. You can tell me the truth. You need to tell yourself the truth. This isn't what you wanted," she insisted, pushing him. Prodding him.

He looked away from her, silent. Brooding. "You want the truth, Moy?" he asked at last. Voice quiet, solemn. "You're right. Fuck. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be in a relationship, some long-term relationship. I never wanted to fall in love, so fucking in love I couldn't see straight. Still can't. I never wanted such exuberant, passionate sex. Okay, I did want that, but not the rest. Not all the romantic crap. I did want the love, though. I never wanted a wife. There was no way in hell I was ever going to be married again. And a kid? No way! Not John Sheppard. Who has time for a kid? Then I met you, Moy." He glanced at her.

Moira was watching him, love and sympathy in her brown eyes. She shrugged. "Sorry, John."

He smiled. "Sorry? That's it? You completely turned my life upside down, Moy. Like I did to you. The truth is I've never been happier. Never. I have everything, more than I ever hoped to have, or even imagined. Or wanted. Until I had it. So much more than before, you can't even imagine what's it like to have so much..." He looked away from her. "Maybe you can. And that, that scares the hell out of me, Moy. No. What scares me is that I could lose it. All of it. I will lose everything. I always do. And if I lost you, John junior...I don't think I could go on. How did you? When you lost what's his name? James. How did you go on?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because I think, I know, conceited as this may sound, if you lost me you couldn't go on either. Except for John junior. If I lost you and John junior I just...I don't want to go through that. I don't want you to go through that if one of these times I go through the 'Gate and don't come back. Or come back in a body bag. But I can't let you go, Moy. I tried. But...what we have is so precious, so real. We connect on every level. And the sex...so fucking sweet and wild. You know what I mean. And the darkness. You know. You're the only one, Moy. And now John junior. I can't even begin to tell you how that makes me feel...you..." He spluttered, throat raw with emotion. Dry. Words spilling out of him, unable to stop.

Moira stared. Startled by his unusual verbosity. His honesty. Listening to every word, every nuance, every emotion. She caressed his back, silent. Forcing back her tears. Overwhelmed by his love, his absolute trust in her. "John..." she whispered.

John licked his lips. "Look, Moy, I'm not good at this. You know that. But we can't live like that. We can't live in the shadows of fear and loss. That's not living. Fuck, I need a beer!" He slipped off the bed, headed for the door.

"John!" she called. "Fridge!" She pointed to his room.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Brilliant, Moy!" He headed for his room. Grabbed a beer. His stomach growled. He grabbed a sandwich marked with a T. Grabbed another. "Hey, Moira, I'm getting a sandwich! Want anything?"

"No, I'm fine, John, thanks!" she called. Relaxing. Mulling over his words. Wiping her eyes.

John sat at the table in his room. In the dark. Devoured the two sandwiches. Drank the beer. Thoughts blocked at the moment as he took care of more immediate concerns. He knew Moira was waiting patiently for him. Was giving him the privacy he needed. Loved her for that. He looked round the room. He recalled her words about his autonomy. The room felt cold, sterile. Only held his belongings. His real life was in the other room. The room full of roses. Her things. Some of his, even. The bed they shared. The table where they ate, worked. Even had sex. Sheppard's delight.

He stood. Carried his beer to their room. Stood looking around. Moira was still sitting in the bed. She watched him.

"John?" she finally said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He moved to the bed, looked at her a moment. His expression unreadable in the darkness. She bit her lower lip, staring at him worriedly. He downed the rest of the beer. Set the bottle on the table. Got into bed and sat. Licked his lips. "I don't want it."

"Want what?" she asked, heart skipping a beat. Even after all of his avowals of love and happiness she still couldn't quite believe he loved her that much. Still wanted her, even with a baby on the way. Accepted all of her.

He met her gaze. "I don't want my autonomy any more. Remember, Moira? I want...my life is here, now. My heart is here. Here." He patted the bed, gestured around the room. "I want to be entwined with you completely. Our bodies, our lives, our stuff. I'm moving in, baby, with all of my crap so just deal with it."

She smiled. "Okay, John. Um, you do know you already live here, don't you? Sort of."

"No more sort of, baby. We're going to move things around. What did you say worked? Pizza and beer?"

"Like a dream, colonel," she asserted.

"All right, then." He looked around the room. Planning. "We'll convert my room to our work room. Our dining room. A nursery." He smiled. "Okay, Moira?"

"Okay, John. If that's what you want."

"It is. About time, huh?"

"I don't mind if you need your–"

"I do. Mind, that is." He looked at her. Sat close. Kissed her. Another kiss, gently moving her onto her back. "I want us completely entwined, Moira. I want to be in everything. Including you, baby."

She gently laughed. "Hilarious, John. You don't need–"

"I do. Need, that is. To be in you, baby...right now. No more talking, Moy. I hate talking. I do, however, love sex. Sex with my Moira."


	7. Chapter 7

Fixed Action Pattern7

John kissed Moira. Kept kissing her. Unbuttoning her top with nimble fingers as he seduced her with his mouth. Full, soft lips capturing hers. Tongue teasing, gliding as her lips parted for him. "I need this, Moy. More than anything," he wooed into her ear, voice husky with desire. He nibbled her earlobe, gently bit to make her squirm, to make her murmur in response. His mouth returned to hers as his hand slid into her top to caress, to clasp a bare breast.

Moira moaned softly, reacting as his kisses deepened. As his caresses became bolder, arousing. Her hands slid along his arms as his mouth trailed down to her breasts. "Oh John, oh John," she whispered. Arching and squirming under his amorous yet gentle attentions.

"Moira, my Moira," he said gruffly, kissing her. Opening the top as his kisses wandered down, down. "I love you, Moy," he muttered against her skin.

"John, wait!" She drew his face to hers, kissed him. "Take off your shirt, sweetie."

He smiled. "Whatever you want, baby." He sat. Pulled off the gray t-shirt. Tossed it to the end of the bed. "Now you."

"No." She wiggled, pulling off her pajama pants. "I do have these, colonel." She held them for him to see.

He smiled. "Better, baby." He took them, tossed them to the foot of the bed. "Ah. That just leaves my–"

"Drop them, sweetie," Moira instructed with a smile.

He grinned. "As ordered, baby." He shifted, shifted, pulled off his pants, tossed them aside. Moved close to her. Kissing her. "Moira, my Moira...first I am going to go down on you, baby, so fucking deep you will come sweet and hard. And then we'll enjoy full intercourse. And come together." He kissed her, slipping down along her body.

Moira sighed, shifting. Fingers gliding on his bare back, shoulders. Surrendering to his passion. "Oh John, John, sounds like a plan, colonel. Ooh, colonel, is that a P90 pressing on me?"

He smirked. "You better believe it, baby. About to deploy. Hold on, John junior, your dad's going to rock your world, and your mom's," he teased. "At least twice."

John rolled lazily onto his back, sleepily exhausted but sated, satisfied. He stretched languorously. "Fuck. Ah baby, that was fucking sweet. Exquisite. Both times."

Moira tiredly snuggled on top of him, kissing him. "Hmm..John. Oh John. That was perfect. Both times," she agreed softly.

"See? Our exuberant sex makes everything better. Go to sleep, Moira." His arm slid round her. He kissed her brow.

Moira happily shifted on him. "Oh John, John...I'm so tired but damn, colonel! You...you...so fucking sweet," she agreed.

He laughed gently. "Exactly, baby." He closed his eyes. "I'll be out completely in five. No dreams. Well, maybe sexual ones. Hey, if I wake up with a hard-on you will–"

"Hilarious, John. Shut up and go to sleep."

"But you will take care of–"

"Yes, sweetie. I'll help you deploy. Now go to sleep."

John caressed her bare back under the pajama top. Amused she had insisted keeping it on. "Moira, how is it different?" he asked.

Moira kissed his throat. Sleepily satisfied, warm and secure. "Do I really need to tell you, sweetie? All right. You have a cock and I have a–"

He laughed. "No! I get that, baby, believe me. I meant, I meant earlier. You said it was different for you. I was reeling from all of the...changes, stuff, us, and how was it different for you?"

She shifted on him, trying to evade. "Do we have to talk about this now, John? I'm so tired. So pleasured," she enthused. "Oh John..." She caressed his chest. Moved the dog tags aside.

"Just tell me, Moira. I showed you mine," he replied.

"You certainly did, sweetie. Repeatedly."

"Moira! I am trying to be serious," he chastised. Hand snaking down to lightly slap her rear.

"So am I, sweetie." She lifted up to kiss him. Smiled. "I love you, John. I love being like this. Right after sex, still entwined with you. On top of you. Still hot and messy. Intimate."

He smiled. "So do I, sweetheart. Now who is deflecting? Tell me. How is it different?" he persisted. Fingers sliding up to play with her hair.

She sighed. "Tomorrow, John?"

"No. Now. You can tell me, Moy."

She sighed. Rolled off him and turned away to view the darkness. "No. You...you will laugh."

"What?" He turned to her. "I hardly think I'd laugh, Moy." He spooned against her, arm snaking over her waist. "Tell me, Moira." He kissed her cheek, her throat. "Moira. You're like me, aren't you? Convinced you will lose it all, like you did before? No. That you will cause it. Cause the loss somehow," he ventured.

"Yes," she softly admitted. Clasping his hand. Moving to down to the baby bump, as if to shield the child from her words. "You're right, John. I wouldn't be able to go on if I...if I lost you. Except for John junior. The, the difference is while you didn't want any of this...I did. Deep down. I couldn't admit it even to myself. How much I wanted you. I never believed I'd have you. Have you for long. I wanted you so badly, John. You can't imagine how much I needed you, your love. How I desperately craved you, your love. For you to love me. To never stop loving me. Until, until you learn the truth about me. What I did."

"I'll never stop, Moira," he assured. "I'll never let go." He gently turned her onto her back. Moved closer. Kissed her. "Never." He kissed her again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, sweetheart."

She touched his face, his jaw. "I'm okay, John. I...honestly, I never thought you'd...um...no. You'll laugh," she decided, despite the solemnity in his brilliant green eyes. The love.

"No, I won't. Go on," he urged, stroking her hair, her arm. "You can tell me anything."

She sighed. "You, you won't understand, John. Things are so easy for you. Women flock to you all of the time. Always have, always will. You've never had trouble with–"

"Women? Relationships? Hell, yes, Moira."

"Bullshit." She shoved, sat. Closed the shirt around her. "It's so easy for you!" she accused angrily. "Not for me. Any of this!"

"What are you talking about, Moira? Sex? Relationships? Marriage? Pregnancy? Ah! Your few, few men...is that it?"

"Shut up, John." She sighed. "It's just different for me. Okay? All those women wanting you. Only a few men ever wanted me, hell, not even wanting me. Not for long. You the dashing, flirtatious, confident flyboy. Me, the plain, fucked-up paleontologist. But I know. I know the man you really are, John. The man behind that surface. That fucking gorgeous surface! I know! I know the gorgeous man underneath all of that!"

"Okay, Moy," he soothed, perplexed at her sudden anger. Almost disdain.

"I know!" she repeated, as if trying to prove a point. "You, you are as fucked up as I am. That's why we connected so intensely. Well, also the sex, the exuberant sex. Such pleasure, passion. Over and over. I know you're used to such...passion and kinky intercourse and all of the...but I'm wasn't. But you knew that. I don't want to lose you, John. I don't want to ever let go. Even if, even if we had broken up. Even if we had remained fuck buddies, remember when I asked you that? It wouldn't have been enough. I need...I need your love, John. Your love. And I know I will lose it eventually because I always do. But we have a baby on the way, John! A baby! So you can't, you can't back out now, can you, colonel?"

He sat. Thrown by her anger, her sorrow. He could hear that she was on the verge of tears, and could only wonder how she had gotten there from the exuberant sex they had just enjoyed. He ran his hand up her back. "Who ever said I want to back out, sweetheart? You'll never lose me or my love. I want your love. I need it as much as you need mine. Hell, maybe even more. Moy, you have it. How many times do I have to tell you? You have me. My love. My cock. Everything. And you are going to have my baby. John junior. I'll always, always want you, Moira. I know who you are. I know. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The kindest, the sexiest, the sweetest, the smartest. Sharpest too. I don't give a shit about what you did or think you did. I mean, it won't change the way I feel. Okay?"

"Okay, John."

He smiled. "Okay? That's it? All of that and all I get is an okay?" he teased. "Moira, once you learn the truth about me you will back out, believe me."

"No. It won't change a damn thing either, sweetie. I love you." She finally met his gaze. Brown eyes full of love, tenderness. Gravity.

He kissed her. "Okay, then." He guided her onto her back. Kissing. Caressing. "Okay, Moira. I'm sick of talking. Is it any wonder we instituted that no post-coital talking rule?"

She smiled. "Sorry. You had to ask."

"Yeah. Don't let me ever do that again," he stated seriously. "Fuck." He kissed her. "We need more sex, baby. Don't we?" he asked, raising a brow as he met her gaze.

Moira smirked. Pretended to consider. Her fingers running up and down his bare arm. "Hmm...do we, sweetie? Can you deploy that long, hard ordnance of yours? Oh! I guess you can, sweetie."

He smiled. "Yes...but remember the rule, baby."

"No post-coital talking, okay, sweetie."

"No. Don't call me sweetie during sex," he reminded with a grin. A groan as she shifted under him to invite. To tease. To welcome.

Moira woke. Found herself pinned under John's sprawled, snoring form. She smiled. Body warm, still redolent of sexual pleasure. She smirked, pushed. Pushed again. "John. John!"

He rolled onto his back, snorting. She sat, trying not to laugh at his less than glamorous noises, appearance. She yawned, staring round. The room was full of sunlight. She looked at John, recalling the conversation. The revelations. The fear of loss. The nightmares. The insecurities. The sex. All of those delicious climaxes.

"John?" She nudged him. He muttered, rolled onto his side away from her. She leaned close, kissing his bare shoulder. Caressed his side. "Jo-hn," she teased into his ear. Nibbled. Bit. Bit hard.

"Ow!" John woke as she laughed. He rolled onto his back. "Shit! You think that was funny, do you, baby?" He touched his ear, frowning.

"You like it rough, sweetie, don't you?" she teased.

"Not that rough, baby. Damn. Your teeth are as sharp as your nails."

She laughed again. "Stop exaggerating, sweetie! And just be glad it wasn't your cock this time." She giggled at his expression, kissed him. Slid on top of him. "Oh John." She straddled him, nails running lightly up and down his bare chest.

"At least you're feeling better, Moy. Even kinky?" He smiled. "So...how do you want me?"

She smiled, tilting her head. "Hmm...let me consider this carefully, colonel. How do I want you?" she wondered, causing him to smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Fixed Action Pattern8

Moira smiled. Gyrating slightly on him. Feeling his lean, muscled body beneath hers. Starting to tense as she slid intimately along him. His strong hands moving to her thighs. Long fingers caressing, guiding slightly. "This is fine, John."

"Oh." Disappointment. "I was hoping you were going to suggest Sheppard's delight, part two. Or shower sex."

"Always the kinky with you," she fondly accused.

"You started it this time, baby. Naughty Moira wants it. Let's see...wall? Door? So you can come when someone walks by and hears your exquisite sounds?"

"Shut up, sweetie." She leaned down to kiss him. Savoring the fullness, the softness of his lips. Trailing her mouth along his jaw to feel his stubble scratching her. Brushing her tender breasts against his chest hair to feel the sensual abrasion. His hands slid up and around to grab her rear, to squeeze gently. Making her squirm on him. Making her thighs open wider. Making her ride his increasingly hardening cock as it struggled to rise to meet her.

John shifted under her. "Oh fuck, fuck...take me in already, would you?" he snarled. Impatient. Aroused. Still trapped under her as she nibbled down his throat. Her body pressing along his, rubbing. Her hair a glorious spill of brown over them both. Tickling. Her nails running along his chest, pulling, plying to make him groan. Her wetness like kisses along his thighs, his cock. "Fuck! Moira, fuck, baby! Now!"

"Ssh!" she warned, gasped as he nearly bucked her off, up. "Easy there, soldier." She slid down his body. Kissing along his chest now. Biting the nipples, tickling his sides. John moaned, grabbing at her arms but she slid down, down. Disappearing under the blankets after she gave him a soft, sly smile.

John groaned, grunted, losing himself in sensual anticipation. Her mouth was wet, warm on his bare skin. Along his pelvic bone. Nibbling. Her fingers sliding to push between his thighs. To grasp and play as his cock sprang upwards, eager, hard. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, senses aroused almost painfully now.

"Ssh!" She flung the covers off her to glare at him. The top had fallen open and John stared at her fuller breasts pressing on him. Her naked rear in the air. She stopped. Slid up his body and kissed his lips. "John, if you can't be quiet we can't have–"

"Too late!" He grabbed her, rolled her onto her back. Kissed her passionately and shoved her legs apart. Thrust inside her with one quick, decisive motion that made her cry out, moan.

Moira arched, squirming as he began to take her. Grunting with each exertion, faster, harder. Building the heat, the friction to guide them to ecstatic pleasures. She grabbed onto him, rocking wildly as did the bed under her. The headboard slamming the wall, creating an oddly musical tone as the brass hit repeatedly. "John! Oh John, John! John!"

"Louder, baby...my Moira...hold on John junior!" he growled, needing more. Wanting more. Not caring how loud they were.

"Ssh, sweetie! You...you...oh John! John!" she cried, tensing, tightening on him as the pleasure spiraled, was rushing to its culmination.

"No sweetie during sex," he reminded gruffly into her ear. Nibbled. Bit. Kissed her hard and all but pounded into her. He smiled as she lost control, crying out loudly. The litany of his name a stuttering exclamation as the climax burst upon her, in her. He quickly followed, swearing loudly as he shuddered, released.

Moira relaxed her grip on him as he fell upon her. "Oh John..." she breathed, tears in her eyes from the sharp pleasure, possession.

"Shit." John shifted his weight off her, sliding out of her. "Moira? Are you and John junior okay?"

"Fine, sweetie, don't be silly!" she assured, pulling him back to her. She kissed him. "Oh John! John, you haven't fucked me like that in a while!" she enthused, brown eyes sparkling as he met her gaze. She kissed him passionately.

"Sorry. I...um..I just..." he stammered, but she drowned his awkward concern in kisses. Pulling him onto her.

"I'm fine, John! More than fine. I'm fucking wonderful!" she enthused, causing a smirk to appear on his handsome face. "Oh John! That ordnance of yours is just...it's astounding! And don't you worry, sweetie, John junior is fine too. He is used to you giving me orgasm after orgasm...even that earthquake of a climax! My God! John, you..."

He snorted a laugh, kissed her. "Got it, baby. It was good for me too. Very. Fucking–"

"Sweet, yes, John, oh yes. But we were too loud," she cautioned, suddenly serious.

"Don't care," he replied. About to kiss her when a voice crackled from the earpiece. "Shit."

Moira sighed. Slid over him to reach the table. She grabbed the earpiece. "Hello? Oh, um, this is Moira. Moira Sheppard. Report?" She hit John's side as he stifled a laugh.

"Moira?" Rodney's voice sounded irritable. "I was trying to reach John. Is he okay this morning?"

"He's wonderful this morning," she gushed, but added, "I mean he's fine, I think. Why?"

"I've got a splitting headache. So does Carson. And Lorne. What about you?"

"Me? I'm fine. I..." she gasped as John squeezed her rear. "John!"

He laughed as she glared at him. "Hey, baby, you are on top of me with that pert little ass just begging to be fu–"

"John!" She scrambled off him. "Rodney, we're on our way. Sheppard out!" She tapped the earpiece, tossed it back onto the bed. "That's odd."

"What's odd? Me wanting to take that pert little ass and fuck it to–"

"How do you feel?" she asked, ignoring his playfulness.

"Isn't that obvious, baby? I want to take that pert little ass and–"

"John!" She sat, closed the top around her. "How do you feel? Rodney said some of us have headaches. Bad ones. Only, only the ATA gene carriers."

He considered. Touched her thigh. "I've got a slight headache, that's all. You?"

"None. I wonder...I wonder if the–"

"Don't care. Come back to bed, Moira. I'm still tired. Unless you want to have–"

"Sex? No! We should get up, John. It's late!" She looked at the clock. "Shit! It's really late! I'm way off schedule now!"

"Schedule? What is our new schedule, baby? You never told me."

"My schedule. I...oh!"

He pulled her back down to him. Held her close. Kissed her. "No. We need more sleep. So what if some of us have headaches?"

"It's important, John! It must the storm! The lights! Don't you remember?" She tried to move but he held her in place.

"Later. I want to stay in bed with you." He closed his eyes. "Ssh, Moira."

"John, we need to get up now. We need to–"

"Sleep. They can figure it out. Sleep. Get rid of this headache. Ssh." He rolled them so she was under him. Trapping her. "Just another hour, Moy. Stay with me."

"Okay, John," she relented. "One hour, colonel." She closed her eyes, tired as well.

John woke. He was on his side. Felt Moira pressed up against his back, one hand on his hip. He smiled, groggily glanced at the clock. Frowned. He carefully scooted away from her, sat and looked at her. She was fast asleep. He smiled. Rubbed his eyes. Got out of the bed, grabbed the earpiece and moved to his bathroom. "Report?"

"Colonel, everything's quiet, sir. Doctor McKay had to go rest for awhile but he wanted to see you in his lab ASAP, sir."

"All right, thanks." He showered, shaved. Pulled on clean clothes, the black and gray BDUs. He slipped on his holster, fastened the double straps around his thigh. Slipped in the gun, feeling an odd need for the weapon. He stepped back to their room. Moira was still sound asleep. He smiled. Left her.

Yawning he stopped at the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, carried it to the physics lab. Found Rodney and Carson working side by side. Both appearing equally fatigued, troubled. "Hey."

"Ah, finally!" Rodney grumbled. Rubbed his temples. Blinked. "How do you feel? Because I feel like we had another bachelor party."

"Fine. A little groggy from lack of sleep, and I've still got a slight headache. You–"

"Groggy? Let me guess. Nightmare."

John stared at Carson. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I had one too," the doctor admitted. "A terrible one. So did Rodney. So did Evan. In fact most of the ATA people did. Did Moira?"

"No. But she had the least exposure to the storm, the lights...you don't think that's the–"

"We do. Somehow, maybe because of her double ATA gene she instinctively knew there was a threat in the storm," Carson theorized.

"I still don't believe that," Rodney grumbled.

"No," John considered. "She did, Carson. She practically hid from it, as if she was protecting herself and the baby. And me. She insisted that I stay with her, not to look at the storm. The lights in the storm." John set down the empty cup.

"Well, if that is true why didn't she warn all of us?" Rodney asked, still not convinced.

John smiled. "Because I'm the favorite." Rodney rolled his eyes. "And she didn't know. Not really." He frowned. "Can you bring up the trajectory of the storm? Its path from beginning to end."

"Of course. Why? Oh no. You're not suggesting–"

"Suggesting what?" Carson asked.

"An attack. Whether by someone controlling the storm or the storm itself, yes," John confirmed.

"That's ridiculous!" Rodney exclaimed, but grimaced, regretting his raised voice. "How could someone control a storm? How could a storm be a sentient entity? And to attack ATA carriers? Give them nightmares and a headache? Why?"

"We've seen stranger things out here," John reasoned. "Just bring up the trajectory. Plot it along the path it traveled. Then plot it the way the wind speeds and natural elements were as if it were a model."

"Oh. And if the two don't match–"

"We'll know it was an attack, not a natural event." John watched the screen. Licked his lips. "Is everyone with the ATA gene affected?"

"Pretty much," Carson noted. "I've done some blood work on several, as well as dispensing tons of aspirin. There's no physical alterations in their brain patterns. No pathogens. No virus. There is a slight elevation in their brain chemistry, in the frontal lobe, but nothing to be concerned about. At least not yet."

"Huh. Look at this, John." Rodney ran his finger on the screen. "The blue path is the storm last night. Almost as if it had been pursuing your Jumper right to Atlantis. The green is the path the storm should have taken, given the wind direction and speeds, the storm's natural progression over the open water . The two paths diverge right here." He tapped the area.

"At the shield. There's our proof. The question is whether or not the attack was from an unknown enemy or the storm itself," John reasoned. "Carson, check all the medical archives. This must have happened before, or something similar. Rodney, check the scans of the storm itself. Determine if it has any kind of artificial energy or control or, or something. I'll have Moira look at it from a biological POV. An entity."

"If this was an attack it wasn't a very successful one. Nightmares? Headaches?"

"I don't know about you but the nightmare I had...it was set in the future. And truly horrific," Carson stated quietly. Glanced at the floor. "And this headache is bloody murder."

Rodney uneasily glanced up as Elizabeth was approaching, Radek Zelenka on her heels. "Yeah, you got the horrific future part right..." he mumbled.

John was silent. Staring from one to the other. "Perhaps this is just the beginning. A feint to test their strength. Our strengths. What better way to disable the city than to take out all of the ATA carriers together?" He tapped his earpiece. "Control room, this is Colonel Sheppard. Suspend all 'Gate travel."

"I was just going to suggest that, John," Elizabeth noted, joining them. "What is going on?"

"That's what we're trying to determine. I've to got to check on Moira. Get her working on the bio POV. I'll be back."


	9. Chapter 9

Fixed Action Pattern9

_Moira stood on the southwest pier. Clad in a black dress. The wind fluttered her skirt, her tied back long hair. She stared ahead at the sunrise. A violet sky over turquoise waters. A thin line of gold hovering on the horizon, rising slowly. To either side of her stood a little boy. One younger by two or three years. Each little hand securely clasped in hers. Both wore black jackets, black pants. Both were nearly mirror images of the other. Youthful versions of John. Down to his wild hair and impatient expression._

"_When, mommy?" the elder asked, staring at the water._

"_Anytime now, Johnny."_

"_Daddy's coming home?" the younger asked, staring up at his mother._

"_Yes,_ _Seamus. Daddy's coming home." Her voice broke and she forced a wave of emotion back. Her grip tightened on their hands, as if afraid to let go._

_A ship descended over the water, landed on the extended ramp. Moira nearly ran but caught herself_, _pulling the boys to her as she ship opened. Evan stepped out, moving to her. Face stern, pained. _

"_It, it didn't work. Are you sure you want them to see?_

"_It didn't..." Despair. She forced it down. "Yes. They must. They'll have to get used to..."_

Someone shook her shoulder gently.

_An honor guard appeared behind Evan. Marines bristling with guns. Expressions grim._ _Dour. Boot steps clomping towards them. Escorting a hooded, cloaked figure with lurching steps._

"Moira? Moira, sweetheart, wake up." John gently shook her shoulder. Sat on the bed. Frowned. She was in a deep sleep. A deep dream. Face pinched in consternation.

_Moira gathered the boys to her, arms enfolding them. _

"_Are you sure you–" Evan tried again._

"_Yes! He is still their father, no matter what!" she snapped fiercely. "Still my husband. My John."_

"Moira?" John shook her again. "Shit! Moy, come on! Wake up!" He shook her harder. Turned her onto her back. Touched her face, felt her pulse. Steady, but starting to race. "Damn it! Moira!" He pulled her up, shook her carefully.

"_Moira," John said, voice nearly a guttural noise. Face hidden by the hood._

"_John. Oh John, I'm sorry! So sorry! So–"_

"Moira?" John asked, as the words left her lips. Audible. Although she was still fast asleep. "Sweetheart, wake up."

"_Moira?" John repeated, clasping her arms suddenly. Gnarled hands, long nails biting into her flesh. Blue scales mingling with human skin._

"_Yes, John. Can you ever forgive me? I thought, I thought it would work!"_

"What? Moy, wake up!" He kissed her suddenly, a hard pressure of his mouth on hers.

_He kissed her suddenly, a hard pressure of his mouth on hers._

_Moira tried not to gag at the roughness. The scales. The scars. The sharp teeth, rough tongue insinuating its way into her. She choked, choked._

Moira woke abruptly to another kiss. Soft lips, teasing tongue. Very human. Very familiar. "John!" she cried, shoved him. Wide awake. Staring, eyes full of tears. She touched his handsome face.

"Moy? Moira, let me guess. Nightmare? Of the future? It's all right, Moy," John soothed. "I had to wake you up, sweetheart. You were in so deep I thought you might–"

"John? John!" She flung herself into his arms, clinging. Silent.

"Ssh, ssh," he soothed, holding her. Stroking her back. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm fine. You're fine. John jumior is fine...isn't he? It was just a dream...right? Moy?" He kissed her brow. "Tell me."

"No." She sighed. "It was horrible, John!"

"Tell me, Moy," he urged, drawing back to kiss her. A gentler, loving kiss. "Tell me, sweetheart." He tasted her tears. His gaze lowered as she sat back from him.

Moira yanked the open top over her breasts. "No. I...I can't...I can't...you...you really agreed to name him Seamus?"

"Huh? What are you–" His gaze moved back to her face.

"Nothing, nothing. John..." She hugged him again, stifling a sob.

He kissed her cheek. "It's all right, Moy. You need to relax." He considered. "Actually, I need your help. Your input. About this storm."

"What?" she asked, voice muffled against him. Drinking in his strength. His warmth. His love. His normalcy. Health. Vigor.

"We compared the storm's actual trajectory to what it should have been. It's not a natural storm, Moy. It was an attack. On us. On the ATA carriers. But whether artificial or natural I don't know. I need you to study its pattern. Find any clues. If it's an actual entity or a sentient being, or controlled by something like that."

She pulled back from him, met his serious, concerned gaze. "You think it was a...a...an entity? Attacking us? With nightmares and headaches?"

"Yes. Or someone, something controlling it. To disable us. Disorient us and the city would be vulnerable. Inoperable." He caressed her rosy cheek. "I need your help, Moira. Then we will discuss this nightmare of yours. Plan contingencies like we did with mine. All right?"

"John, I...okay. Okay, John. I should, should–"

"Yes." He kissed her. "I'll wait here while you shower and dress. Then we can grab a bite to eat and join Rodney and Carson in the physics lab. We can all work on this together. Go on."

"I..." She blushed. "My...um.."

"Oh." He smiled. Reached around and handed her the pajama bottoms. Smiled. "I wouldn't mind a glimpse of that pert little ass but I can be a gentleman." He gallantly turned away to face the door.

She smiled. Kissed his cheek. "Thank you, John."

"That's better, baby. Now move that pert little ass already!"

She laughed. "Yes, colonel!"

Moira sat back, rubbed her eyes. "I don't know even know what I'm looking for," she complained aloud. "If there is a sentient creature there it could be anything!"

"I know the feeling," Rodney commiserated, rubbing his temples. "I'm not finding any energy readings at all. But that doesn't prove it's natural. Or artificial."

"Nothing in the histories yet either," Carson mumbled. "Let's take a wee break while the colonel is conferring with Elizabeth." He sighed, sat back. "My head still hurts. Moira?"

"A dull ache," she admitted.

"Painful pressure," Rodney offered without being asked. Silence. Each lost in their own thoughts. Sporadic memories of their haunting nightmares.

Moira turned to the two men. "Rodney, what did you dream? Maybe, maybe if we analyze the attack, so to speak, we could better understand the motives of the um, the enemy."

"Hmm...maybe," Carson considered. "Rodney?"

Rodney appeared uncomfortable. "Why do I have to go first? I...I would rather not say."

"We would all rather not say," Moira agreed. "But give us the general outline. Please."

Rodney shrugged. Looked at his hands, oddly reticent. He cleared his throat. Cleared it again. "It was...it was awful. Something about artificial life, created by the Ancients. Nano technology, artificial intelligence. That went horribly wrong. Infected...infected Elizabeth. I...I tried to help her, to save her life with it but ended up...she...she died because of what I did to her...to her..." He fell silent. "In the future," he added glumly.

"Carson?" Moira inquired.

"It was terrible, love. Mine was in the future as well. I...I lost a patient. To some trap, a bomb planted inside him. I removed it but couldn't get it to containment in time. I...I died...but then I saw myself later...me, but not me. Like a copy of me...aiding an enemy until I was rescued..." He fell silent, eyes on the computer.

"Moira?" Rodney asked.

She swallowed. "Mine was in the future too. But years from now. Something terrible...I couldn't prevent something terrible happening to, to John. He, he wasn't...he was mutated into...I don't know...I..." She wiped her eyes, felt a shiver.

"What about John's nightmare?" Carson asked gently, patting her knee.

Moira calmed herself. "It was in the future too. I...John junior and I were being forced to go to the colonel, to that alternate reality. Taken from him..." She sighed.

"They were just nightmares, right? To rattle us, to mess with our minds," Rodney reasoned. "Vivid, terrifying and realistic nightmares of the future."

"About our worst fears. Loss," Moira muttered. Clasping the bulky blue sweater around her. "What if...what if they were glimpses into a possible future?"

"Nonsense! I won't believe that!" Carson asserted strongly.

"No. What if they were?" Rodney concurred, exchanging a nervous glance with Moira. "What if this thing can show us glimpses of the future, our futures? Our fears superimposed upon possible events. Possible outcomes which we could possibly prevent, or not. Maybe even things that have happened in other realities. "

"Which begs the question what kind of an attack is this?" Carson asked, frowning. "Messing with our minds. Our heads...our..."

"What? What is it?" Rodney asked. "You have that look."

"It was the light, wasn't it, Moira? When we looked too long at the light," Carson realized.

"The lightning, you mean?" Rodney asked before Moira could answer. "What are you–"

"Give me a minute, would you?" Carson snapped. He rubbed his forehead. "The light. An attack on our brain chemistry. Specifically during REM sleep, the electromagnetic wave lengths."

"Yes, we already knew that, Carson! Why give us horrible nightmares?"

"Fear and loss," Moira murmured, hugging herself. Suddenly wanting to see John. Needing to see him, touch him. Hear him. She looked up suddenly. "Evan? Has anyone seen Evan?"

"No. Now that you mention it," Carson realized.

"He's probably sleeping in like half of the ATA carriers," Rodney assured. He slumped over the table, head on his folded arms. "I wish I was! I need more aspirin. No, morphine."

"The last thing we need is to be drugged," Carson refused.

Moira stood. "I should go check on Evan. I need John. I need to see John. I'm worried about Evan." She moved to the doorway, rubbing her temples.

"Moira? Stay here. We can call John on the..." Carson offered, but she was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Fixed Action Pattern10

John stood in the control room, hands on hips. Trying to ignore the dull ache in his head he squinted at the readouts scrolling down the computer screen. Radek was seated at the console, muttering in Czech, and whatever he was saying it didn't sound good. "Are you telling me that we are down to half power? Even with a fully loaded ZPM? How is that possible? We were fine yesterday."

"I don't know," Radek sighed. "It's as if something was draining the power. Then stopped. I've got weird anomalous energy signatures all over the city. They flicker in and out and are impossible to trace. Faster than the blink of an eye."

"It's almost as if it's searching for something," Elizabeth mused, joining them. "Whatever it is. Any progress on that front?"

"Not yet. Have any systems been accessed?"

"No. That's the odd thing. It's not searching the data base. It's not even in the data base as far as I can tell. It should be, being an energy wave, but it's not in here." He tapped the console. "It's out there, somehow." He pointed vaguely towards the city.

John tapped his earpiece. "Rodney, progress?"

Rodney snorted, startled from his drowsy agony. He lifted his head. "Huh? Oh fine, John," he acerbically commented, tapping the earpiece, "we've got this all sorted now and have moved on to how to destroy the Wraith. How do you think it's going? There's nothing! Nothing but useless data and these damn headaches and those visions of a bleak, unforgiving future, so no, we haven't been able to find something that isn't there!"

"Keep working," John stated, ignored his friend's irate words. "Where's Moira?"

"She's not here. She went to check on Lorne, you–"

"Sheppard out." He abruptly strode out of the control room, leaving Elizabeth to stare after him.

Moira stood at Evan's door. Knocked. "Evan? It's Moira. Are you all right?" She knocked again. "Evan?" She waved her hand over the panel. The door opened. She stared, about to cross the threshold but hesitated. The room was dark. Too dark for mid-day. An inky blackness filled every corner, every wall. She touched her baby bump. Stepped back, bit her lower lip. Uncertain. Guilty. "Evan?"

"Moira!" John sprinted to her side.

She whirled, stumbling in alarm. "John? John, I...I can't! I can't!"

He drew her across the hall. "It's all right, Moira. I'll–"

"No!" She shoved free, tears in her eyes. "It's not all right! I should go in there! Evan's in trouble, he needs me but I can't, I can't! Because, because..." She glanced down at her hand still on the baby bump. Her wedding ring glinted golden.

He touched her hand there. "Because your top priority is yourself and John junior. As it should be, Moy." His voice was quiet. Serious.

She met his gaze. "But, but I...he...you..."

John kissed her. Drawing her into his arms. Gently turning her, moving her against the wall. "And my top priority is you. And John junior," he said low into her ear. Kissed her again. "Stay right here, Moira." He stepped away from her. Drew his gun.

"John?" She watched him as he entered the room.

John crossed the threshold. Waved his hand over the light panel. Lights flickered dimly. Revealing an empty but messy room. The bed disordered. Chairs knocked onto their sides. Books and clothes on the floor. "Lorne? Hello?" Gun poised John checked the room, stepping carefully around the clutter.

Moira stared at the doorway. Tempted to approach but heeding John's words. Lights flickered in the hallway. "John?" she called.

John stepped across the room. Emerged and crossed to Moira, returning his gun to its holster. "Empty. Signs of a struggle, or a fight. I'm not sure if–"

"Sheppard! Storm's approaching fast!" Radek's voice broke over the PA, crackling.

"What?" He tapped his earpiece, caught Moira's arm. "Repeat!"

"It came out of nowhere, John!" Elizabeth's voice sounded worried. "A massive cloud with lights, directly over the city! We've raised the shield but it won't–"

"On it! We'll use the Chair! Give me the coordinates!" He pulled Moira. "Let's go, Moira! I'll need your double, well, John junior's double."

They ran to the lower levels, to the Ancient Chair. John leapt into it, sat back. Power hummed at his touch. Lights shone all around. He closed his eyes. "Zelenka! Coordinates now!"

"John. John, it's not working!" Moira warned, as the lights faded.

"What?" He opened his eyes. Stared in disbelief at the nearly inert Chair. The flickering lights. "Shit. Moy, give me your double."

She smirked for a moment. "Really, John? I've always wanted to have sex in that Chair."

He grinned. "Hilarious, Moira. Power me up."

"With pleasure, sweetie." She touched the Chair. Closed her eyes and concentrated. Power stuttered to life. Lights flickered, grew stronger.

John closed his eyes, concentrating. "Zelenka, give me those coordinates. We've only got one shot at this!"

"Vector seven, twenty degrees south, forty-two east. Shield is inoperable!"

"Got it! Moy, concentrate now. Think of the drones. Here we go, baby."

"Are you talking to me or to the Chair?" she teased, but concentrated.

He smiled, then grimaced as he forced the Chair to react. Forced the tendrils of power into his mind, directing. Assessing. The response was sluggish. He activated the drones.

Moira clutched the Chair's arm tightly, face furrowing in concentration. Lips pursed together. She felt the power rising, rising. Like a living thing. Pictured the drones. Pictured the storm. A gathering mass of darkness with pinpricks of red and blue lightning. Descending on the city like a funereal shroud. She felt a queasiness, a panic until John's fingers strayed to hers. As if sensing her fear he clasped down on her hand.

John strained, fighting the growing headache. The fatigue. A sudden muscle cramp in his leg. "Zelenka, report! I think I got it! I hit something! Raise the shield! Zelenka! McKay!" John opened his eyes, as a rush of energy drained him. The power was abruptly gone. The room was plunged into darkness. His fingers entwined with Moira's but she was falling backwards. "Moira? Moira no!" He leapt out of the Chair, staggered. Pulled her into his arms before they both fell. "Moira, are you okay? Moira!"

She opened her eyes, grabbing onto him. "John? John, did you–"

"Yes, I think so. Stay close to me. Anyone?" He tapped the earpiece. Silence. He looked at the hallway. "Something's zapped all of our systems. Even communications are down." He looked at the Chair. "We're nearly defenseless," he muttered. He looked back at her. She was staring fixedly at the darkness beyond them. Beyond the feeble glow of the Chair's fading power. "Do you see something?"

"No." Yet she continued to stare.

John stared at the darkness. The shadows almost absorbing the weak emergency lights as they blinked on, one by one. Soft amber pools. He moved in front of her, a quiet, stealthy motion. Drew his gun. Aimed it steadily. "It's there," he softly noted.

"What? I don't see any–"

"Ssh. I don't either, but I know. It's out there."

"Here? In the city?" she whispered.

"Yes. A shadow in the darkness. Stay behind me." He winced as his headache flared. He kept still. Kept his stance. Kept the gun firmly in his grasp.

Moira hunched, feeling sick. "John," she moaned.

He fired suddenly. At the darkness. At the pinpoints of light dancing briefly. Fired repeatedly, fighting past the pounding in his head. "Get down!" he ordered, dropping to his knees. He pulled her down behind him.

A wave of something hit, exploding in his head. Flashes of memory, of nightmares invaded as he fell backwards into Moira. Onto her as he instinctively covered her even as he lost consciousness on a wave of darkling pain.

Moira woke. The sound of gunshots still rang in her ears, in her head. She was on her back. Something pinned her down. A heavy, unmoving weight on top of her. Someone. She stirred, struggling to full wakefulness, to remember. John. She shifted. Trying to move. She touched him. Could barely make him out in the blackness. His form sprawled across hers. "John? John!" She nudged. Pushed. Fingers on his throat to feel a steady, strong pulse. She relaxed a little. Hauled herself out from underneath him, enough to sit. "Ow!" she complained as she hit her head on the Chair. She kept John's head on her lap. His body sprawled across her legs.

She touched his face, his head, peering close. Felt no injuries. No bumps. No blood. She touched the Chair. It powered sluggishly. Lent a weak bluish glow which extended to the heels of John's boots. Just to the gun, inches beyond them. She knew she should go get the weapon, but was loath to leave John undefended, unconscious. Alone. She stared at the darkness. Discerned a deeper shadow in the doorway. Glints of light winking. She nudged her husband. "John? John...now would be a good time to wake up, sweetie. John?" She felt her abdomen. Felt no discomfort or pain. "John, any time now, please," she urged. Nudging him again.

John's head was a dull pounding drum. Sluggishly he gained consciousness. Felt Moira underneath him. Imagined them naked, entwined in the new bed just after a passionate sexual union. But it was the floor under him, not the mattress. And they were both fully clothed. Memory surfaced. Gunshots. Firing at nothing. At something indefinable in the darkness. Moira behind him. He opened his eyes, sat abruptly. Groaned as his head swam. "Moy?"

"John, John, are you–"

"Are you? John junior?" he asked, hand sliding up to her baby bump. Gentle. Protective.

"Fine, John. Both of us. You?"

"Fine. Except for this fucking headache." He touched the Chair. Power flared, then faded. "Crap." He looked at Moira. She was bathed in blue light. Staring past his shoulder. He caressed the baby bump, testing, but she didn't flinch. "Moy? What is it?"

"I...I don't know. Something in the dark. Darker than the dark. Tiny lights. Like it's held at bay. Like it's unable to–"

John kissed her suddenly. A slow, savoring merging into the blue light with her. Merging their lips. Opening her mouth to slide his tongue along hers. Fingers still caressing the baby bump. He sat back a little, only a little. Gaze locked with hers. The blue light turning her eyes into a darker shade of brown.

She stared, lips parted. "John?" she whispered. Caught his hand at her abdomen.

He shrugged. "Sorry. I...I needed to do that, sweetheart," he explained quietly. Puzzled himself. He slowly turned to view the darkness. Spotted the gun. Felt her fingers slide along his back. "How does your head feel?" he asked, gaze peering intently at the darkness beyond. Trying to see past it. Into it.

"A little groggy, but otherwise fine."

"And John junior?" His voice was low, almost intimate.

Moira shifted a little, reacting despite the situation. "Fine. You must have hit whatever it is."

"All right. Let's move to our feet. Slowly. Stay behind me. Keep hold of my arm."

"John...wouldn't the city go into lock down if there was an intruder?"

John slowly moved to his feet, guiding Moira to hers. "Yes. Even with the power cut. It's a separate system. Unless it can't detect whatever the hell this is. Or isn't." He tapped his earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Anyone reading me? Please respond. Rodney? Elizabeth? Radek?" He took a few steps towards the gun. Stopped. "Nothing. It's like a ghost town."

"City," she corrected.

"What?"

"City. It's not a town, but a city so you...never mind."

He smiled. "Now's not really the time for a semantics lesson, sweetheart." He took a few more steps. Bent his knees. Snatched the gun. Straightened. Holstered it as he suddenly staggered.

"John?" She kept hold of his arm.

"Damn headache. Give me a sec...whoa...." he swayed, caught himself as Moira held him firmly. She steadied him, arms around his waist.

"John? Easy, easy, sweetie. Do you need to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine. Fine..." But he drew her back to the Chair. Sank to his knees suddenly as the room began to spin wildly. "Oh crap."


	11. Chapter 11

Fixed Action Pattern11

"John!" Moira sat as he keeled over, nearly toppling onto the Chair. But she caught him, drew him to the floor next to her. Eased his head onto her lap. Kissed him. "Easy, John, easy. We're safe here at the moment." She caressed his cheek. Ran her fingers softly through his hair. "Better?"

John closed his eyes briefly. Regaining his equilibrium as the room stopped spinning. "Yeah. Don't stop, Moy. Just give me a sec here..." Her lips brushed over his.

"We're okay, John. It must be emitting some sort of pulse, or wave. Something that gets worse the closer you get to the door, or to it. Or because you are displaying overt aggression. I guess we're trapped here. I don't know why it's not affecting me as much. John junior? Or because I haven't threatened it. I don't know. It could be a defense mechanism. Two fixed action patterns colliding and resulting in this. Maybe it–"

"Whoa, what? Fixed what?" he asked wearily.

"Fixed action pattern. A genetically coordinated species-specific activity that is irreversible once it has been triggered. Instinctive, if you will. There have to be three conditions. A willingness to act, a motivation of some sort. A sign stimulus. And an innate trigger mechanism. This thing, or things, whatever is acting on instinct but still with very definable patterns of behavior, as are you. Your overt aggression to defend the city, to defend me. It retaliates by this wave, or pulse to defend itself, possibly to attack but I'm not sure. You..." She paused. Looked down at him. "Sorry, sweetie. I was rambling. John?"

He smiled, eyes closed. "I had to ask," he wryly commented. "It's okay, Moy. I love your rambling. Give me five here," he whispered. Head pounding.

Moira kept gently caressing his temples, ruffling his hair. She kissed him. "Okay, John," she whispered. "I suspect the nightmares were the same. Triggered by our fears, what lurks in the darkness. Things that could happen in the future." She stared at the darkness beyond them. Saw shifting shapes. Pinpoints of light. "I know you are out there," she quietly called. "What do you want? There's no need to hurt us. There is no need for you to hurt him." She waited tensely. Glanced down at John. His face was pinched in pain.

"He would. Kill us."

Moira looked up quickly, hearing the strange voice. A voice not human. Not machine. Oddly accented, as if learning the words as it spoke them. "Yes," she agreed. "To defend me he would. You attacked us first. He won't kill you now. Talk to me. Explain." She glanced down. John's expression relaxed as the pain receded. She looked up at the darkness again. Something moved. Approached. John had sensed it too. Even with his eyes closed. His fingers slid down to the holster. He grimaced as a wave of pain asserted itself. "John, no!" She gently drew his hand away from the weapon. "I told you not to hurt him!" She winced as a headache pulsed briefly.

"Easier. To communicate. Construct. We chose."

"Um, okay. We need to communicate, yes. Is that why you gave us all nightmares?"

"Disable. Fears unbalance. Glimpse of futures. We are between time. Travel so. Until you took."

John opened his eyes. The disconnected voice eerie. Suddenly more human. Male. He felt Moira tense. Her fingers frozen in his hair, on his hand. "Moy?" He turned his head. A shadowy figure stood.

"The future? The nightmares were visions of the, the future?" she asked, voice soft. Fraught with emotion, sorrow. Dread.

"Possible futures, yes. Will happen. But in same way, different way. Uncertain. We chose the worst to unsettle. Disable. Break. What you took we take."

John frowned. "What did we take?" He slowly sat, glanced at Moira. She was staring at the dark, despair on her face. "Moira." He turned her face to his. "Only a possible future. We can prevent it. All of it."

"All of them, John? All?" she asked, feeling tears.

"All. At least ours," he said quietly. Kissed her. Turned back to stare as the figure emerged.

"Evan?" Moira moved to her feet, starting towards him but John sprang to his feet, caught her. Pulled her back.

"A construct," he reminded. Even as the figure flickered. Solidified. "Tell me what you want. What did we take?"

"You. You shot drones at us."

"Yes, to defend the city. You attacked us, don't forget," John stated sourly.

"You stole. You." Not-Evan pointed at John.

"The alien tech," Moira realized. "The broken pieces...those were yours? We didn't know." She took a step but John blocked her.

"No, Moira. It's true. We didn't know. We found them. Reassembled them. You can have them back. Once you tell us what they are. And return Major Lorne to us unharmed."

Not-Evan pointed at her. "She. Will give us what was stolen. You are dangerous."

John smiled. "Who, me? Guess you've never crossed a pregnant woman."

"John," she countered.

"I go where she goes," he continued. Smile gone. Voice like steel.

"No. She. Alone. Or we will invade your minds. Those less strong. Suffer."

"Go right ahead," John invited.

"John! No! You can't!" she protested, but John held her back with his arm.

"You'll never get what we took if you harm anyone," he warned. "Either I go with her or the deal is off."

"You. Would kill."

"Yes, I would kill. Take it or leave it."

Moira stared as the Not-Evan flickered, faded into the darkness. "John! What the hell are you–"

"You are not leaving my side, Moira! Not for a second. Trust me. Stay behind me."

"John! Let me do this!" Moira tried to move past him but John held her in place.

"No."

"John! Let me give it what it wants! We can't risk others to–"

"I won't risk you or John junior," he countered, holding her securely in his arms as she tried to squirm past him. Away from him. "No. And you will not risk yourself or John junior either."

She sighed, relenting. Pressing herself against him. "But, but I–"

"No." He watched the shadows move. The Not-Evan flicker, re-appear. "Well?"

"Take us to what you stole. Both."

"Restore the power. We need to see where we are going. And restore communications or my people will attack you," John warned.

Lights flickered dully. "Go."

John freed Moira. "Lead us, Moira. Physics. I'll be right behind you. I mean right behind you."

She nodded. Moved slowly to the door. The shadows drew back from her, like living things. Slithering on the floor, on the walls. Lights flickered on and off as she made her way down the hallways. John followed on her heels. Felt the construct following him with eerie, silent footsteps. Shadows chasing after them, dousing the lights as they passed.

John tapped his earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Please respond. Anyone reading me?" He glanced behind him, scowled at the Not-Evan following. Blank expression on the familiar face. Darkness swarming like a cloak behind it. He looked back at Moira climbed the stairs. Lights switching on and off as they ascended.

"Eyes up, Sheppard," Moira said suddenly, trying to break the tension.

John smirked. "Sorry, baby. But I do love guarding that pert little six."

"Shut up, John." She moved down another hallway. Stepped into the physics lab. "Where?"

"Here. I've got the codes." John whirled suddenly, pulled Moira behind him as lights flashed, boots stomped. P90s raised. The darkness seemed to rear up like a wave as Not-Evan stood immobile. Frozen in place like a robot.

"Colonel Sheppard! Where–" one marine shouted.

"Stand down! Stand down!" John ordered, but bullets flew. He ducked behind a table, pulling Moira with him. "I said stand down! That's a direct order!"

A scream split the air. Darkness flooded the room, the hallway. Men's shouts. Gunfire. Then silence.

"Wilson? Wilson!" John cursed. Lights flickered. Cautiously he stood. "If you harmed any of my men the..." He froze. Stared at the marines littering the floor.

"John?" Moira stood, stared. "No!" She touched his arm where a trickle of blood was rapidly staining his sleeve.

Not-Evan flickered. Turned to them. Gestured. "Not dead. Sleep. Give what you took."

"John, you've been hurt!"

At Moira's voice he looked down at his arm. "Oh. Just a graze, Moy. Don't you worry." He led her to the fallen marines. Knelt to check one man's pulse. "They're alive." He stood. Winced at the pain in his arm. "Ouch. This way." He led her to the cabinet. Input his code.

"Here, let me. John, sit!" She pushed him into a chair. Grabbed the pieces of alien tech and put them on the table. "There! Take what you want and leave us!" She grabbed a clean rag, tied it around his bloody sleeve.

"Moira." John pulled her away from the table, getting out of the chair as Not-Evan advanced. The darkness with him. The construct stared at the pieces. "You heard her. Take it and go. Now!"

"Pieces. Missing. Where?"

"There's nothing missing," John bluffed, moving in front of Moira again. "We even put some of that stuff together for you. So take the damn stuff and go!" He winced as head throbbed. He staggered suddenly, knocking into the table.

"Stop! Stop it now!" Moira moved and grabbed the Impulse Detector. "Here!"

"No! Moira, we need that!" John argued.

"We need you more, damn it! Take it! Leave him alone or I will destroy it!" she threatened, grabbing a stapler as if it could smash the device. "You so do not want to cross a pregnant woman!"

John had to smile, despite the pain. He reached out for her. "Moira–"

"Ours." Not-Evan took it from her. A jolt of static stung her. Moira gasped, stumbled back into John arms as he caught her.

"Moira? Are you–"

"Fine! You..." She froze as Not-Evan stared at her. A rapid communication. "Yes. Come with me now."

"What? Moira?" John asked.

She turned to him. "They will leave us in peace. If we let them go. Through the Stargate. John, trust me."

"All right." He looked past her. "Restore communications so I can tell my people to stand down and give you safe passage out of the city." All at once voices clamored in his ear, over the PA on the wall. He winced. "Rodney!"

"John! John, power's restored but we still–"

"Citywide now!" He waited, holding onto Moira's arm as she staring at Not-Evan who was staring back at her. "This is Colonel Sheppard! All teams stand down! I repeat, all teams stand down! I am escorting our guests to the 'Gate and they will be leaving us. Clear the way! Stand down! Sheppard out! This way. Moy, in front of me."


	12. Chapter 12

Fixed Action Pattern12

Moira finally blinked. Her mind filling with images, flashes of lights, of strangely elongated creatures unlike any she had ever seen, evolving into pure forms of energy, into crystalline structures. So beautiful, so delicate. Almost transparent in their physical forms, translucent. Until destroyed by the Ancients. She stumbled, but led the way out of the lab. Mind clearing. Concerns focusing. "Where is Evan?"

"Release him once we no longer need the construct."

"You had better. I don't get it. You could have come in peace and nicely asked for your toys," John noted. "Why attack us?"

"Enemies."

"Huh? We've never even–" John began to argue.

"He means the Ancients. The Ancients destroyed them. The only ones to survive were the ones who had evolved into crystalline or pure energy forms, like the darkness. But not the darkness, John. Something else in the darkness. I can't quite explain it," Moira said.

"Oh. He told you that?"

"Yes, sort of. Images, not words."

"Major Lorne? Sir, he's in the Jumper bay unconscious and–" a marine stammered, staring, starting to raise his gun.

"Stand down, lieutenant, that is a direct order. Get Lorne to medical now!" They entered the 'Gate room. John pulled Moira to one side as the darkness flooded. Filled the room. The 'Gate began to dial. Chevrons whirling, glowing blue.

"John? I have no control over–"

"Let it go, Rodney!" John ordered. Watching the event horizon shimmer to life. "There! Go!"

The darkness began to fill the event horizon. To John's eyes it appeared like a reverse eclipse. The darkness starting small, but enlarging to block out the shimmering light. Plunging them into complete and utter blackness. The Not-Evan was stepping towards the 'Gate.

"No! Wait!" Moira yanked free of John, rushed after the Not-Evan.

"Moira, no!" John lunged for her.

Moira reached out. Her fingers brushed, then went straight through the Not-Evan construct. Lights sparkled, blazed. Streaks of red and blue like the lightning of the storm. The shadows shrieked. Moira found herself locked into place. She watched the construct turn to her, eyes pinpoints of red and blue light. She drew back, but couldn't free her hand. Suddenly noticed everything had stopped. Had frozen. The event horizon was a solid mass of black and outlined in silver. John was frozen in place behind her. Reaching out for her, one foot in mid-air as he raced to her. Darkness all around them, but fallen like a cloak. Solid. Thick. People up in the control room staring down like statues. "Oh oh," she muttered.

"The ATA gene...fatal to us...too strong in you..." the construct explained. Image flickering like bad television reception. "We had to disable. Disorient to enter city. You. Not Ancients."

"No. We are not Ancients, but some of us have the gene. The gene is fatal to your kind? How?"

"Different cells. Chemistry. Protein attacks like a virus to our systems. Cannot explain in your words."

"The Ancients destroyed you? Destroyed your cities? For this? Your technology?"

"Yes. Tried to enslave us. Reproduce us. We evolved. Defense. Do not follow to our world."

"No, we won't. We will never go there," she assured. "I have to know. About, about the nightmares. All of them. Are they the future? I have to know," she repeated earnestly.

"Possible. In between time. Many paths. Too many futures. Will happen one way or another."

"But will they happen? Can we prevent the outcomes?" she asked.

"Yes. Will happen but not as shown, or as shown. Future is not static, not frozen. Is moving always. Or sideways."

"What? Wait, what does that mean?" Suddenly there was motion, light. Confusion. The darkness flew through the Stargate. The construct dissolved, was gone. Light flashed, blinding after the solid darkness. Moira fell forwards, suddenly able to move. But John caught her, hauled her against his chest, into his arms.

"Moira! Damn it!" The event horizon winked out of existence. "Shut it down! Close the Iris!" John ordered needlessly, as Rodney was already activating the systems. John spun Moira to face him. Angry. "What the fuck were you doing? Damn it, Moira! What the fuck were you doing! You could have been pulled into that thing! You could have been killed!"

"No, John. They won't come here again, and we can never follow after them. I...I had to know."

"Know? Know what? What the fuck happened? Time just...just stopped. I thought I lost you, Moira. I lost you in there! I..." he broke off suddenly, emotion choking.

"John, stand down," she soothed. "We need to get you to medical. Evan! I need to talk to Evan!" She pulled him from the 'Gate room.

"Fine. You are going to get checked out as well, Moira. No arguments!"

Moira sat near Evan's bed. He was awake, bruised and sore but otherwise unharmed. Exhausted. Drained. She glanced over at John. Carson was cleaning the wound on his arm as Elizabeth and Rodney hovered, bombarding him with questions. She looked back at Evan. "And you don't remember?"

"No. One minute I'm in my room and the next a storm hit. I mean a storm in my room! At least that's what I saw, and that's what it felt like. Then I woke up here. I feel like I've run a marathon. And the storm was an alien entity?"

"Yes. Evan...what was your nightmare?"

"What?" The question threw him. He looked across the room. Uncomfortable.

"We all had them. Nightmares set in the future. What was yours?" she gently asked, touching his hand.

"I don't know. I don't remember," he lied, eyes on the bed.

"Evan, of course you do. We all do. I need to know. Tell me, please."

"And it, they, whatever, just wanted those broken pieces of tech?" Rodney asked, shaking his head. "Including the ones I fixed?"

"Apparently," John answered.

"It seems like a lot of trouble to go to just for their stuff," Elizabeth noted.

"We're harmful to them. The ATA gene...that's why they attacked the way they did," John explained, glancing at his wife. She was sitting close to Evan, his hand in hers. "Moira spoke to it. Can explain it better than I can. Apparently the Ancients wiped them out, well, most of them."

"What? I find that hard to believe," Elizabeth refuted. "Why? Unless they were a threat."

"How could they have been a threat?" Rodney asked. "If anything they were more advanced than the Ancients. In different ways. Take the Impulse Blocker. An effective defense against the Wraith. But harmless to them. It wouldn't cause the Wraith to reciprocate with violence."

"Like the Hoffan serum did," John agreed. "You have the schematics for another Wraith Detector, don't you? For several of them?"

"For the Impulse Blocker, and yes, of course! I just...I'm not sure I have the exact equipment I'll need, but I'll find a perfectly fine substitute. Maybe." He frowned. "I'll need more of those crystals. Not the ones here. They were different. A different composition. I can check the data base and see if any other planets have them."

"I still don't understand how the ATA gene could be lethal to them," Carson noted.

"You're asking the wrong guy, doc. All I know is this thing, these things, they are not even remotely human. They travel between time. Were used by the Ancients before being wiped out by them." John's gaze darted back to Moira. Her earnest expression. Evan's troubled one.

"Weird. But not surprising given the Ancient's propensity for self-destructive creations," Rodney noted.

"That's hardly fair, Rodney," Elizabeth chastised. "We don't know the full story. We may never know it, but I find it impossible to believe that the Ancients knowingly went out of their way to try to destroy an entire species."

"It must be some sort of chemical reaction," Carson mused, mind still focused on the genetic interaction between the two species. "On a cellular level...a molecular incompatibility. There, colonel, you are good to go. Try not to get shot again, would you?"

"I wasn't planning on it any time soon," John acerbically commented.

"Evan, please. I need to know," Moira urged. "We all had them. Nightmares set in the future."

"Not like this, Moira. Not this bad...it...why is it so important?" he asked, meeting her gaze. Blue eyes troubled. Sincere.

She glanced at John. Saw him watching her, concern, warmth on his handsome face. She looked back at Evan. "I'm collating them to find a pattern. Please, Evan. It is important."

"You really want to know?" he tested.

"Yes. I won't tell anyone. Trust me."

"Except the colonel, of course," he glumly noted. "No, don't deny it, Moira. God..." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm so tired. And that nightmare...it went on forever. So vivid. So real. I've never had a dream be that real, that terrifying and accurate."

"Tell me. Why won't you tell me?"she asked, suspecting. She looked over at John again. He was talking to Rodney and Elizabeth. The low tones of his voice soothing. Familiar.

"Because it involves you. And the colonel," he explained. As she met his gaze he shrugged. "I...I kill him, Moira. I kill Colonel Sheppard."


	13. Chapter 13

Fixed Action Pattern13

"We need to check the data base. See if we can determine when these things, these creatures were created, and why. How they arrived here. If they were an original species to this galaxy or what? What is it?" Elizabeth paused, seeing the quick look between Rodney and John. A shared knowledge. "Well? You already know?"

John shrugged. "We...guessed."

"We...guessed," Rodney agreed, but quickly added as Elizabeth's gaze narrowed, "I mean I suspected and found a similar although not entirely the same species in the reports of the SGC so yes, there was a similar species in our galaxy but whether they originated there or here is anyone's guess."

"I see. And were either of you going to tell me about this?"

"Of course. But then the attack happened. I suppose it's moot now anyway," John noted.

"And we were being driven away from them. The planets, I mean, we...what?" Rodney asked to John's sudden glare. "Oh come on! There is no traitor in Atlantis! Clearly those things were tampering with our equipment to keep us off the track until they could reach us to get their stuff back."

"What? What do you mean a traitor in–" Elizabeth asked, puzzled. Alarmed. "John?"

"Nothing. There were some disturbing discrepancies in the rosters, that's all. It's still an on-going investigation. As for those aliens, we keep away from them, they keep away from us. Done deal." He looked at his wife. Moira was tense. A soft gasp escaped her lips. Evan appeared miserable, guilty. "Thanks, doc." He stood, met Elizabeth's gaze. "I'll instigate a perimeter check just to be sure the city is secure. Rodney, you need to lock out that address from the data base. Permanently."

"Wait! Just what the hell is going on, John? You suspect a traitor is in–"

"No, I don't. There were some troubling aspects to the mission rosters. Like someone or something was diverting us away from the outer reaches of the galaxy."

Elizabeth frowned, holding his gaze. "Like myself, you mean. Those missions you wanted to pursue to search for more of that alien technology on deserted planets? Well, I think we can agree I was right to discourage those missions. Look what just happened, John! Sometimes it is better to leave well enough alone."

"Is it?" John asked, glancing at his wife. Saw her distress. "We can discuss this later."

"John? John!" Elizabeth called angrily, but John was walking towards his wife.

Moira swallowed. Heart racing in her chest. "Tell me, Evan. You must tell me," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. Soothing. "How, how far into the future was this?"

He hesitated. "Years. Decades...no. Not that long, but close. It was awful, Moira. Atlantis, I mean." His voice fell to just a whisper. "So many were gone. There was a man in charge, a civilian. Weir was gone. Rodney was, was engaged to some blonde doctor who couldn't heal a bug! Carson...wasn't Carson, but he was. I can't quite explain it. We had some insane alliance with the Wraith of all things! You...you...you were heartbroken. With two little boys, Moira, and the colonel...something had happened to him. Something awful. I couldn't see him clearly but..."

"Go on," she soothed. Swallowing the dread even as her heart raced, raced.

Evan stared at the bed. "I was in charge of Atlantis. The military commander. Um...you, Moira, I can't."

"You can. You have to tell me, Evan. Please." She took his hand into hers again.

"You, you were in isolation. I threw you into isolation. You...you were pregnant, with his...some kind of abnormal...when I found out what he'd done to you, what you let him do to you..." He took a deep breath, released it. "Thank God it was only a nightmare, Moira! A horrific vision of things to knock me senseless. I couldn't live with myself if I ever...Moira?"

Moira was staring at him, frozen. Tears sparkling in her brown eyes. She slowly freed his hand. Drew back from him.

"Shit." John increased his stride towards them. "Moira?"

"Moira? It wasn't real! It was just a nightmare," Evan stated.

"I know." Moira stood. "It's all right, Evan. Get some rest. The nightmares should be over now." She walked to the back of the infirmary. Calm. Quiet.

John followed. Recognizing all too well the calm before the storm. He glanced at Evan, suspicion lining his features. "Moira?" He sped up as she entered a private room. Closed the door. He grabbed the handle, intending to follow but it was locked. "Moira?" he called.

"Just a second," she said calmly. She hunched over the table, horror engulfing her. Hugging her like a physical threat. She felt a flood of tears falling. Tried to silence her sobs, her fear, her terror. Shaking her head. Bile rose but she forced it back down, refusing to get sick. Refusing to believe that all of the nightmares would come true. Determined to find a way out of them, around them.

"Moira!" John rattled the door, cursing it for being of Earth design, not Ancient design which he could have easily opened with a wave of his hand. "Moira! Damn it! I told you to never lock me out! Open the door! Moira!"

"Give me a minute!" she snapped. Straightened. Wiped her eyes. Touched the baby bump. "Sorry, John junior." She moved to the door. Unlocked it. Opened it to see John angry, worried. "I need something to eat." She moved past him. Almost pushing him out of the way.

John stared after her. Followed her silently. To their room. To his room where she grabbed a sandwich, a lemonade from the fridge. He grabbed a sandwich, a beer. Moved to the table in their room where she sat. He sat next to her. Both silent. Both ate and drank mechanically. He finished. Sat back, sipping his beer. Eyes on her, watching every bite, every sip. Locked on her sorrowful expression. Her solemn gaze on nothing. "Well? Moira?" He sighed. "He told you his nightmare, I take it?"

Moira finished. Met his gaze. "How did you–"

"What else could upset you, sweetheart? And Rodney said you asked about his. And Carson's. Moira," he touched her hand, "it was an attack. No one can see the future, not even some weird creature in between time. And even if it could it's not written in stone, is it? Whatever you think is going to happen to me, to you, to us...it won't."

"Won't? As simple as that?"

"Yes. Nightmares are a product of our own fears, right? Our worst fears. Our own insecurities. Don't you think that entity played on that? What better way to disable us than to dig around in our psyches? Distract us with terrible visions? It doesn't make them true."

"I...I..." She stood. Moved to the window. "I know you, you make sense. It...it's just..."

"They're still playing on you, on all of us, Moira. This attack is the most insidious. It puts us off-balance. To conceal their real objective."

"Which is?"

"You tell me. You talked to the damn thing. Put yourself and John junior into danger." A thread of anger surfaced in his voice.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Are you, Moira?" he questioned. "No, you're not. You'd rather save me than yourself, damn it! Moira, you can't do that! Not anymore! Not with John junior now! You're carrying a baby, damn it! My son! You just can't be so fucking reckless!"

Moira sighed as his anger hit her. Knew under it was concern, worry. Fear, even. "I have to keep you safe, John," she softly countered.

"No. You don't." He stood. Moved to her. Put his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. "You can't save me, Moy. Don't even try."

"No. No! John, I can't!" She turned to him. Suddenly fierce. "Don't you ever ask that of me! I won't let you–"

"You will, Moy," he argued, stern. "Not at the expense of your own life, or that of our son. Sons. I won't let you. Ever." He touched her wet, rosy cheek. "I should send you to Earth, Moira. Where you and our son would be safe. Secure."

"No."

"I should. I should give you up and stop being so damn selfish. Send you to safety."

"No! I won't go!"

"You will. I know it will be hard, for both of us, Moira, but I can't allow you to live like this. In constant fear of me, of what might happen to me. Recklessly risking your life just to save me. Risking our son's life to save mine. I can't let you! I'd rather die than witness that! I won't let you. I don't care what these fucking nightmares tell you! I don't care what happens to me as long as you and our sons are safe."

"I care! I care, John, what happens to you, because if I don't have you I don't have anything! I won't go! I won't leave you, ever! I'd rather face any danger, any threat just to be with you!" She hit his chest. "I won't go! You can't make me, colonel! I'll fight you tooth and nail to the bitter end if you–"

"No! You will, damn it, if I have to carry you over my shoulder and strap you into a ship myself! Stop thinking of me! Think of yourself and our son!"

"I am! I won't lose you, John! Neither of us can lose you! Can't you see that?" She hit him again. Again. "I won't lose you! I won't go! I won't! I won't! I–"

John pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard. Roughly. Drowning her words, her protests, her fears. She struggled but he pinned her to him. Kissing her repeatedly now, mouth softening on hers. Gentle. As the kisses lengthened, lengthened. Her clenched fists relaxed, hands sliding up his chest. Suddenly she was pushed against the wall near the window. Her sweater flung open. His hands wandered along her body, her curves. As his mouth continued to ply hers. To woo. Body pushing on hers. He pulled back suddenly, staring. Hands on her breasts. "Moy? Moy, what the hell is–"

"Shut up, John!" She kissed him, flung herself against him. Pressing. Grinding herself intimately, offering escape. Release. She pulled at his shirt, his pants. The tide of need overwhelming. "Fuck me, John, fuck me," she breathed into his ear. Circled. Bit.

He groaned, fingers flying on her clothes. Roughly yanking her pants, her shirt. Kiss after kiss. The need driving him. Consuming him. Her hot whisper all the incentive he needed. She kicked off her shoes as he yanked down her pants. Her panties. Fingers grasping, groping between her legs. Moira gasped, whimpered. Undoing his belt, his pants, his holster. Unzipping to grab him as he sprang out towards her. Hard and eager. Squeezing as she dug her nails across the hard length of him. "Fuck! Watch it, baby!" he warned, aroused wildly now.

"I thought you wanted it rough, sweetie," she taunted. Kissing up his throat. Circling his ear and biting. Hard.

"Fuck!" He yanked down his shorts, his pants. "Very rough, baby. There's nothing like a rough fuck," he growled into her ear. Thrust into her. Moira cried out in surprise, squirmed along the wall. John grunted. Found her tight, wet, but not quite ready for him. Nevertheless he thrust, thrust hard, deep as she clenched on him.

Moira moaned as the rougher friction enveloped her. Filled her inch by excruciating inch. She hit the wall repeatedly, thrust into it, up it. She grabbed his shoulders as her feet bounced on the floor, slipping and sliding. "John! Oh John! I won't go!" she snapped.

He kissed her, tongue thrusting in time to his cock now. Over and over as she responded, opening to him. Taking him eagerly. "You will if I have to tie you up and spank that pert little ass blue!" he threatened. He nibbled down her throat. Hands roughly shoving up under her shirt, under her bra to cup her breasts. To gently squeeze.

Moira hit his chest, squirming. Clung to him before she fell. "No! I won't go, you fucking bastard! I won't! I oh John! John, John, John!" she exclaimed as his increasing rhythm inundated her with pleasure. She widened her legs, arching as she was hitting the wall wildly, quickly.

John groaned, pleasure rippling riding him with each thrust. He moved faster, faster still, deeper to release. "Fuck! Moira, Moira, oh fuck baby!" He swore profusely, slid out of her suddenly.

Moira nearly dropped to the floor, caught herself. "John?" she asked, wide-eyed, breathing heavily. But he grabbed her. Swung her off her feet and carried her to the bed. He set her gently down. "John–"

"Take off that fucking sweater and that fucking shirt! Now!" he snarled. He swiftly removed all of his clothing, practically ripping them off his body. Unsatisfied.

Moira stared, enraptured at his fierceness, his hunger. His gentleness. "John?" She licked her lips. Quickly removed her sweater, her shirt. The bra. Longing for his touches, his mouth, his hands, his cock.

"I don't want that pert little ass bruised, baby," he explained, voice husky, almost raw. He eyed her. "You are going and that is a direct order, baby, so suck it up and obey me!"

She frowned. "Is it, colonel? You want me to suck it up, do you? I don't think so."

He moved to her. Pushed her gently onto her back and slid onto her. Kissed her. "You will do what I tell you, baby. Now fuck me," he said with a smile. Slid down to suck at her breasts. Shoving her thighs apart. Long fingers probing.

Moira whimpered, arching into him. Squirming under him. "John! Oh John, John, please, please! John, John, John!" she cried in surrender, in pleasure as he thrust into her. Moving faster and faster, harder and harder now to bring them to ultimate release, possession. Passion. Moira ran her nails harshly down his back. Squeezed his clenching rear as he rocked the bed. Rocked her to frenzied sexual passion.

John kissed her, all but swallowing her mouth into his as he grunted. Rode her hard, fast. The bedposts ringing musically as they slammed the wall. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he growled, tense, coming in a rush of speed, thrust. Shuddering with each exquisite spasm. Rivers of pleasure almost painful.

Moira cried out loudly, arching and grabbing. Melting helplessly as the climax shook her, consumed her. "John!" She sobbed as he kept moving, ruthless. Refusing to release her, to release himself. Pounding into her, filling her completely. Sexual pleasure riding in waves and causing her to tremble, to whimper, to gasp and lose her breath. Just when she was convinced she was going to die of sheer exuberance he slowed, slowed. A final thrust. A last ejaculation before he groaned loudly. Fell upon her.


	14. Chapter 14

Fixed Action Pattern14

John's heart was racing. The surge of adrenalin, of sex inundating him. His breath raggedly escaped his lips. Cock finally satisfied, relaxing as was the rest of him. Floating on the aftermath of sexual pleasure. Into lethargy and fatigue. He shifted, moving his weight off the baby bump. Sliding out of her, eliciting a soft moan from Moira. "Ah baby, baby...there it is," he drawled. "So fucking sweet. My Moira."

Moira's hands gentled on his back. "Oh John, John...John, you...I won't. I won't let you take this from us, I won't," she vowed, voice breathless. She kissed his brow, his lips as he lifted his head to gaze upon her. Sweet, gentle kisses. "John. John." His name a loving embrace on her lips.

"Ssh, Moy." He kissed her. "Ah baby, I think I would die without this. Exuberant passion. So fucking sweet between us, Moira." He ran his mouth down her throat. Down to lazily tease her breasts.

"Oh John, John...you...I need...please, I need your love, John...I need...I need–"

"My love? You have it. My lust? Have that too. My cock? Just shut up and fuck me over and over until I can't get it up," he teased, biting gently to make her squirm, gasp.

"John! That will take days with your ordnance, colonel," she replied tartly. Shifting under him. Lifting to press intimately along him. "John, oh John."

He kissed her, rolled them onto their sides, facing each other. "John junior okay?"

"Yes, sweetie, don't you worry." She snuggled against him.

"Um, Moira? Sorry. I...um...that was a little, um, rough."

"It's fine, John. Don't ever apologize for sex, sweetie."

He smirked. "Good to know, baby. Ah fuck." He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. He wiped his brow. "Fuck I'm beat. But in a good way. Stay on top of me, Moy. I like having a naked woman on top of me."

"As long as it's me, colonel," she noted, causing him to chuckle. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"I can't even remember what we were arguing about," he remarked, caressing her back.

"Good." She kissed him.

"Oh. Yeah. Earth."

"Shut up, John." She snuggled. "I'm not going anywhere so just drop it."

"I can't, Moira. We'll table it for now."

"No. I'm not going and that's final." She kissed his chest, shifting on him. "I won't leave you, John. Ever. I love you."

"I love you, Moy. That's why you have to go. We can arrange it tomorrow."

"No!" She scrambled off him. Got under the blankets, kicking him to the side. "I won't go, damn you! You can't make me!"

He got in next to her. "I can and I will, Moy." He considered. "Just not yet." He drew her into his arms, kissed her. "Get on top of me, baby."

She did so, snuggling. Pulled the covers over them. "John? I won't go." His eyes were closed, hands stroking her bare back. Playfully cupping her rear.

"Pert little ass...so fucking sweet..."

"John!" She shifted again. "I won't go!"

"Ssh, Moy. Go to sleep. Morning. We can talk then. You. Me. John junior. Ssh."

"I won't go," she whispered, clutching him. Despite the argument she closed her eyes. Felt safe, secure, loved in his arms. Hoped she could dissuade him from his overly protective decision.

John rolled over, stretching deliciously in the wider, longer bed. Sprawling comfortably. Not feeling Moira he opened his eyes. Felt groggy, as if he had been drinking heavily, but knew he had imbibed only one beer. Then the sex. He smiled. Rough sex leading to exuberant lovemaking. An argument. He tried to remember but the sexual memories were far too distracting. He licked his lips, sat. The room was dark. The normal darkness of the evening.

Moira sat at the table. Bathed in the glow of her lap top as she was typing furiously. Muttering softly to herself. Hair spilling messily across a black t-shirt she had donned. His black t-shirt, he realized, seeing how large it was on her. He watched her a moment. Bare thighs bathed in the bluish glow. Even the roses on the table had a bluish cast to them. "Moira?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, startled although his voice had been quiet. Her expression was serious. "Not now, John. I have to be quick. It's fading fast." She turned back to the computer. Resumed typing.

"What? What's fading fast?" She was silent. The only sound the tapping on the keyboard. Beneath that the soothing sussuration of the waves. "Moy?"

"Not now, sweetie. Go back to sleep. I have to concentrate," she scolded.

He frowned, not liking to be dismissed. Stared at her. Recalled the feel of her against the wall, then under him. Voluptuous curves. Her crescendo of moans and whimpers. The ecstatic repetition of his name. Her body yielding to his. Eager. Welcoming after being deliciously snug and moist. Opening to him like the petals of a flower. The rough, vigorous sex. He smiled. Imagined several scenarios. Different ways to take her again. "Moira."

"Go back to sleep, John. I'm almost done." Moira typed, oblivious to his sexual desires. Although she reacted to his lower tone. The husky intimacy revealing his arousal all too clearly. She typed rapidly, getting down the last of the nightmares before they were gone. She could feel them fading into the grogginess. Forced herself past the heavy, healing sleep that had threatened to obliterate all memories of those nightmarish futures. She bit her lower lip, scowling in concentration. Even as details faded.

John slipped out of the bed. Smiled. Plotted how best to approach her.

Moira gasped, feeling a hand on her bare thigh. She scooted back from the chair. John was sitting on the floor at her feet. Had moved to her with the silent stealth of a cat. He was smiling.

"John!"

"Hey, Moira." He kissed her thigh. Moving up onto his knees now that he was no longer under the table.

"John, no! Just a sec–" she gasped as his mouth traveled up, up, as he parted her thighs. Scooted the t-shirt's fabric out of his way.

"Fuck. That sweet sex smell makes me rock hard, baby. Moira." He moved closer, closer. Blocking her access to the computer now, lifting up the shirt to run his hands over her bare breasts. Rosy nipples almost purple as the blue light shone on her when he ducked his head.

"John!" She caught his shoulder. "Let me finish, please. I'm almost–"

"No. I'd rather you finish me, baby. Repeatedly." He kissed her. "This is my shirt."

"Yes, it is. Move!" She leaned to one side but he caught her. "John! One minute!"

He sighed, moved to his feet. "Fine. One." She scooted to the table, typed rapidly. Paused. Typed. Paused. She closed the lap top. "Shit." She stood. "I can't remember the rest now. It's gone. All that–"

"About fucking time!" He yanked the chair back, stood directly behind her. "Move the computer, baby." He lifted up the shirt, baring her rear. "Pert little ass."

"Fine." She moved it aside. "One minute."

He laughed. "I think at least two...no, five. No ten, baby. Although you do have the sweetest little ass in two galaxies," he teased into her hair. Grasping, groping. Squeezing.

Moira squirmed, trapped between him and the table. "John! You–"

He gently pushed her onto the table. "Oh. Is this okay for John junior?"

"Yes. Just don't ram me into the edge of the oh!" She grabbed the table as John suddenly shoved her thighs apart, pushing her up a little and thrust into her.

"Ah fuck..." He leaned close, sliding his hand under the baby bump. "There we go." He kissed her cheek, her throat. "Ready, baby? I won't go full throttle like this."

"Okay...I, I can't believe you want to–"

"Do it now? Fuck yes." He groaned, began a gentle but persistent motion. "Tighter, baby. There, ah there...fuck that is sweet. You know the safe word, baby." He increased his motion, but was careful. Felt her tightening on him, trembling as he wooed her to arousal, to need. He slid his hand lower, fingering her mound as she arched, shifted, feet slipping on the floor.

"John? John, you, you...oh John!"

He smiled. "Double?" he breathed into her ear, kissing her throat. Fingers prying as he straightened, thrusting harder, faster. The roses trembled as the table shook, shook. Taking her whimpering as a reply he guided her up a bit, began to ply her doubly as he felt the rush beginning. The sweet release.

"John! Oh John, John...John!" she cried softly, squirming, flooding as he inundated her with pleasure, wave after wave until the orgasms burst upon her. She cried out, clutching the table, moaning as he strained, shuddered and came with a grunting enjoyment.

"Fuck! Ah fuck, fuck, fuck that is fucking sweet! Damn, Moira! Sweetest little ass in both galaxies, I swear! So fucking lush and so fucking–"

"John, shut up!" she scolded, embarrassed at both his rough effusions and her position. He laughed, slid out of her. Sat on the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She squirmed, turned to him to kiss him repeatedly. He ran his hands under the shirt, lifted it to stare at her breasts, her body. Caressed as he kissed along her throat. "John, John, John..."

"Whoa, baby, are you coming again?" He smirked at her scowl. "This had to go. Now." He pulled the t-shirt off her.

Moira caught his arms, squirming on him as he ran his mouth along her throat again. "John? You...colonel?"

He grinned at her surprised expression. "Yeah, afraid so, baby. So fucking sweet my cock can't get enough of you. Ever." His hands slid down to cup her rear, to lift her, to squeeze.

"John!" Moira scrambled awkwardly. Found herself abruptly lifted and set on the table. She was about to speak when he kissed her. A deep, probing kiss that took her breath away. He moved her onto her back, stepping between her thighs. Shoving them wide.

Moira squirmed on the table, moaning as John's mouth traveled to her breasts again. She arched, shifted, helpless as he taunted, teased. Mouth plying and sucking as his fingers glided down between her legs to stroke and rub. She wondered at his sudden sexual appetite, seemingly unsatisfied, or not satisfied for long as he once again wanted to have sex. She surrendered, lost herself in his sensual attentions, demands. Trusting him completely as the table shook under her. Her hands grabbed at his hair, his shoulders. His arms as he lifted up and entered her with a deep, possessive sound that made her shiver.

John kissed her. Kept kissing her as he thrust repeatedly. Began to increase the momentum as he needed more. Needed all of her. Every inch. Faster to make the table shake under her. To make her stuttering moans and whimpers escalate into sounds of approaching passion. Approaching release as the pleasure built, built. He pulled up a little to watch her. To watch her come under him, to take her with him.

Moira fell back as the climax took her wildly. As John swore profusely and shuddered, jerking inside her as the last of his need spurted, spurted. She felt herself sliding as John pulled out of her. But she was swung up into his arms and carried to the bed. She kissed him as he set her down. Got into the bed with her. She snuggled onto him as he sprawled onto his back. "John?"

"Fucking beautiful baby. The way you come," he lazily noted. Closing his eyes.

"Has it finally gone down, colonel?" she asked.

He laughed. "Yeah. For now. Can't resist it, baby. Pert little ass. Sweetest, snuggest center in the fucking galaxy and–"

"John! Shut up!" She sighed. "Fucking soldier."

He laughed tiredly. "Yeah, you just did, Moy. Twice." He sobered, stroking her back. "Shit, I am going to miss this, baby. You. Me. Sex. Lots of sex."

"Shut up, John. I'm not going anywhere. I have to stay. Who else can handle that big, long, hard and constantly erect ordnance of yours?"

He snorted. "True, baby...only you."

"Damn right, sweetie, and don't you dare forget it! Now go to sleep!"

He smirked. Kissed her brow. "As ordered, baby." He waited, feeling her relax on him. "You know, Moy," he said, smirked as she made an exasperated noise, "we could just keep having sex. I mean, today could be let's just keep having sex day. I'm just saying. As long as John junior is okay with that. Oh, and you too."

"Hilarious, John. I won't be if I don't get some sleep! Now shut up!"

He laughed. "Okay, Moira. My Moira." He smirked. Waited. Waited. Brushed back her hair from her ear. Whispered hotly into it, "Sweetest, tightest little pussy in both gala–"

"John Sheppard!" Moira shoved herself off him to sit, to glare. She hit his chest as he laughed heartily, enjoying her reaction. "You fucking bastard! Don't talk to me like that, damn it!"

"Sorry, baby. But it's the truth, I swear! And I should know, you know."

"Shut up!" He laughed again. She sighed, snuggled into the blankets away from him. "I hate you sometimes."

He spooned against her. Kissed her cheek. Hand sliding to gently caress the baby bump. "Nah. You love me, Moira. You love me, want me, and long for me. Go to sleep. I'll be nice." He sighed. "Guess I'll have to be since you'll be leaving soon."

"No! I won't. I won't–"

"Ssh," he soothed before her voice rose into panic, sorrow. "It's decided. Done. Just not right now, Moira. But soon. You will be safer on Earth, and as much as it will hurt us both it's the right thing to do. For all three of us."

"No. John, please, you can't, you can't–" she whispered, feeling tears, anger.

"I have to, Moira. Keeping you safe is the only thing that matters. Nothing else." He softly kissed her cheek, her throat. "Nothing will ever touch you, Moira. Nothing will touch our son. And if we have to be apart to ensure that, so be it."

Moira was silent. Stifling her anger, her despair. Feeling John settling next to her, relaxing as he fell into a contented slumber. Her mind raced. Her heart pounded. Dismayed at his decision. Heard his intractable, resolute tone. Even his sorrow underneath it all. But he would deflect it, disable it in order to protect her. At all costs. At any costs. To her. To himself. She knew pleading wouldn't work. Nor would weeping. Nor would shouting or screaming. She sighed, pondering how to change his decision. A tiny whisper insisted that she couldn't. That secretly he wanted to be rid of her. She bit her lip, chasing the insecurity away.

She stared at the darkness.


End file.
